


To regain faith

by Flauschvieh, hine



Series: To regain faith [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: A Lot of Awkwardness, Angst, Awkwardness, Bathing scene, First Timers, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marsac Arc from Athos' and Aramis' POV, OT3 - Endgame, Peacock hunt in the royal gardens, Porthos who might be up to them.., an unexpected guest at night.., and at the same turn Slut shaming (through language), awkwardly romantic!Athos, comforting!Aramis, darkpast!Athos, gay shaming, injured!Porthos, sets place right after 1x03 Commodities, slapstick! d'Artagnan of some sorts.., youngster!d'Artagnan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1259458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flauschvieh/pseuds/Flauschvieh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hine/pseuds/hine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan just returned from their assignment to transfer Bonnair back to Paris and Athos is still thrown over the recent events. One night when he gets unreasonably drunk and starts talking too much, Aramis doesn't know how to deal with the rock that is kicked loose...</p><p>(Or: In which Athos has a silent crush on Aramis (and also angsts about a lot of stuff..), Porthos has a crush on Athos, d'Artagnan has no clue what's going on, the Red Guards are homophobic douches, Aramis ex-boyfriends is being a pain and everything is basically messed up until they 'handle it like men')</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-work (RP) of [me (Athos)](http://flauschvieh.tumblr.com/) and [Hine (Aramis)](http://hine-hine.tumblr.com/)  
> Our storyline takes place right from 1x03 Commodities, all the way through 1x04 and ends somewhere before 1x05 Homecoming

The moments following the successful execution of their plan were made bright and warm by the company of friends. Bound by the camaraderie and trust born of secret missions, they had seen to it that Bonnair was delivered to the Spanish and would face justice for his crimes. ‘There is an edge to seeing a plan come to fruition’, Aramis thought, ‘And it makes one feel life as keenly as the rush of adrenaline during any fight.’

 Had not the wine and company been as good as it had, Aramis might have thought to remember that the rush of battle - even if only one of the wits - could only last for so long before it faded into something all the more unpleasant. As it were, though, the prospect of the slave trader facing a lifetime of imprisonment had mellowed Porthos mood considerably, and Aramis was glad to see the easy smile and spark of humour return to the big man's eyes.

 His mood was further improved by the knowledge that he had not lied to his friend. He had been able to keep his word when he had promised Porthos justice and in the way all three of his friends joined him in the silent toast to Bonnair's unfavourable fate, he thought he might not be the only one in high spirits.

 In another hour, they would have to be back on the road, before their absence in Paris could be noticed or questioned, and by the first light of the next day they would be retreating to their own beds for some much needed rest. Barring any unforeseen complications. For all of their sakes, and however much the four of them seemed to love charging head-first into all kinds of trouble, Aramis prayed that this time they would be spared any more surprises along the way.

Were he a bit more well-versed in the reading of signs, Aramis thought, he might have remembered to ask for the jovial mood to last that long, too.

For by the time they made it through the city gates, silence hung heavy and uncomfortably between them. They had pushed on through the night, stone-faced and without rest. It was a testament to their friendship, Aramis found, that they had given a wide berth around the spot of the ambush, and, consequently, the Manor of the Comte de la Fere, without so much as a word passing between them.

Porthos had refused to rest along the way, despite the obvious discomfort he seemed to be in. All of Aramis attempts to convince him otherwise were met with disdain and the assurance that everything was perfectly fine. And for the second time in as many days, no help seemed to be coming from Athos.

All things considered, Aramis felt that exerting the amount of willpower it took not to knock some sense into his friends was something to be proud of. Especially when Porthos’ first order of business once they’d dismounted in front of the Musketeer garrison amounted to almost falling on his face. 

“You,” Aramis said, unimpressed “Are going home, where I am going to check that you haven’t pulled any more of your stitches.” 

The words came out harsher than he had intended them to, aggravated by worry and the long ride, but Aramis refused to feel guilty about them here, in the the grey light of early morning.

“Now sit the hell down and wait until I’m ready to make sure you actually make it as far as that.” 

Later, after Aramis had ushered Porthos home with a hand firmly planted between his shoulder-blades, after he’d checked his stitches and looked for signs of infection, after he had wrapped the wound in fresh bandages, ordered bed rest and threatened violence and finally found himself with nothing left to do to calm his restlessness, Porthos turned to question him. 

“Don’t you think you were being too harsh? With what you said to Athos?” 

Aramis felt his shoulders tense, but remained where he stood, his back to the other musketeer. 

‘I know’, he wanted to say but found himself unable to. 

“What would you have had me do?”, he asked instead, not surprised when the only answer he received was a shrug that made his fingers itch to check on the wound again, to reassure himself of the fact that he was not powerless in the face of a friend’s suffering.

At least a physical wound he could tend to, and soften the pain with the warmth of strong ale and herbal remedies. 

The third time Aramis made an abortive movement in the direction of Porthos shoulder in as many minutes, the other man pulled a face and positively growled. Aramis had made himself scarce after that. He might not be afraid of the big musketeer, despite what the other liked tell himself, but he knew how being mothered grated on Porthos. Or any of his friends, really.

Right now, all of them were on edge enough for things to turn sour faster than they normally might have and Aramis, too weary to quarrel with his friend, took his leave of the other man.

‘The question I should be asking myself’, Aramis thought, ‘is whether I should or shouldn’t have risked Porthos life to spare Athos whatever was haunting him.’ But the answer to that was clear and unmovable in his mind, and really, how could the older man have expected him to choose any other outcome?

With nothing but his silence and single-mindedness when it came to crawling into a bottle of wine to go on, how were they to know, how was Aramis to know how to treat around him?

When in doubt, Aramis knew, you should bleed a wound to clear it of infection, but now he wondered, if infection had not taken hold too deep and festered for too long to make any difference. In that way, Athos’ ghosts were not unlike the cold fingers of regret taking hold in Aramis’ mind.

 

“ _Do you not care about Porthos?”, he’d asked Athos, but the real question, though unspoken, was not lost on either of them. “Are you so selfish that you do not care about the fates of any of us?”_

_____

 

After they had arrived back in Paris, their ungrateful quest turned into some brighter outcome as they all had hoped for, Athos slowly felt the memories of that night back there in his former manor crawling back to the surface.

The day was still young and chaste, offering them a break after the tiring quest they just had returned from. There was only guard duty to be done today, watching over the garrison and the royal gardens, reconcile the usual fightings in the lower streets of the city.  It was a chance for all of them to recharge - especially for Porthos, to bed a woman, or just more in Athos' favor: sleep in, head heavy from hungover.

When Aramis ushered Porthos to his quarters, Athos saw d'Artagnan home. Not for the sake of keeping him on the right track and keep him out of trouble, not that the boy would have needed that though, they all slowly got the idea that the young one was tougher than he looked. It rather was an excuse for Athos to keep himself occupied. When he found himself in company there usually was a lower chance to wallow in dark thoughts and self pity.

But it couldn't be helped: when d'Artagnan nodded to the other, his eyes making the promise again, to keep their secret to himself, Athos could not follow him into the small lodging.

He was on his own now, turned from the doorstep with a blank face and walked the short way home.

His own chambers were in a real state, stuff carelessly thrown about  - not that he owned particularly many personal goods, the most had gone up in smoke in fire in the manor, together with his past.

Athos slumped down the mattress and rubbed his face with both hands. He could force himself to sleep... catch up with some hours of good rest which had been stolen from them on the long night's ride. But as always, Athos found himself staring to the ceiling, craving for a drink.. or two.

Unfortunately he had emptied his stocks some time ago, one lously bottle rolling over the ground uselessly empty. Athos kicked it with his foot befor he got dressed again not so neatly and headed out the room. 

His plan was to get a bottle of wine from somewhere rather than siting in the tavern on an early morning, and lock himself in his room, reminiscing. 

As chances would have it he nearly ran into Aramis back down on the street, who seemed to have finished his sick bed visit to Porthos. 

___

 

Having left Porthos’ lodgings in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier behind him, Aramis found his step faltering with the realization that he was not entirely sure what to do with himself. Now that his skills as a perfunctory healer were no longer required, the sensible thing to do would be to return to his own quarters. Especially with guard duty looming in the not too distant future and the strain of the last few days that was making itself felt more clearly with every passing hour.

It would be the sensible thing to do, but with restless energy still coursing through him, Aramis knew that sleep would elude him for quite a while yet. 

And if he was being completely honest with himself, he had never been the most sensible of men anyway. More sensible than the rest of the rag-tag group he called friends, maybe, but certainly not in the grand scheme of things. 

Besides, Aramis knew that despite the weariness that had settled itself deep in his bones, the only thing retreating to his rooms would accomplish was too much time alone with his thoughts.

The alternative, and a decidedly less sensible thing to do, was to find a drink to occupy his hands in a tavern with enough noise to drown out all thoughts of Porthos bleeding in more ways than one, of d’Artagnan’s worried glances and the look on Athos’ face that was halfway between desperation and indifference. It was not right, none of it, and Aramis wanted nothing more than to forget about it all. And if wine was what it took to make him pass out and sleep the sleep of the obvious, so be it.

He imagined Athos would have approved of his new ways of coping. 

The irony of the thought was not lost to him.  

He had barely taken more than a few steps in the direction of the nearest watering hole before he stopped dead in his tracks with a laugh that is only slightly manic. It seemed that even in choosing evasion he was unable to escape the man who had been occupying his thoughts.

____

 

Athos' gaze lowered, fairly hidden by the brim of his hat. He actually wasn't in the mood for company right now.. of course he had not forgotten their little dispute, but if they were EVER to discuss the matter, he would give half of a wine's bottle for it not being the time now.

They nodded in greeting and fell easily into step, if not into their usual banter. And as grating as the silence still was, Aramis found he couldn’t bring himself to break it.

Athos, however, seemed to have no such problems this time around, even though his voice was quiet and he refused meet Aramis’ eyes when he inquired after their wounded friend.

But Athos was a man of honour and no ill treatment and forced himself to give the friend a nod and walk sideways with him as it turned out, Aramis was heading for the same direction...

"How is he?", Athos said after a moment in a quiet tone, looking down the alley leading the way in front of them. "Porthos I mean."

“Now you ask after his well-being? Now? After you would have let him die in the back of a wagon?”, Aramis demanded, his anger flaring. He backtracked as soon as his mind caught up with what he had been saying, feeling guilty. “I … That wasn’t fair of me. I know you care about all of us. I’m sorry.”

He made to emphasize his words with a hand to Athos’ shoulder, but aborted the motion halfway through. Unsure if the company was welcome after what had passed between them in the clearing not two days ago. Unlike Aramis himself, who was tactile by nature and quick with physical reassurances, he knew the other man valued his privacy. Getting up in Athos’ face had probably not helped to inspire any confidence Athos might have had to confide in Aramis. Neither was making a scene in the middle of whatever alley they had found themselves standing in.

“You know Porthos. He’s ungrateful and ill tempered when hurt, not that he’d ever admit to hurting in the first place.” Aramis added, trying to affect the air of easy camaraderie that was so familiar to him. “But he will live. There is nothing to do now other than making sure there is no infection. He was quite lucky, if you can call it that.” 

For the first time, he found himself looking at his friend and really seeing him. He took in the ragged state of his person and the disheveled look to his normally so immatriculate appearance. It was hard, sometimes, to remember Athos was as human as the rest of them. Only better at hiding it.

“I know you must have had your reasons for what you did. I can understand that even if I can’t understand what these reasons are. I’m just not sure I can forgive you for it yet.” Aramis told the other man, making sure to meet the other man’s gaze and hold it. It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was the best he could offer at the moment.

“I now it is selfish of me, and I must ask your forgiveness. I will get over myself, just …give me time to settle this with myself?”

The need to establish physical contact, to touch, even if it was just a friendly pat on the shoulder or hand clasped around an elbow, was almost burning. And Aramis clamped down on the urge almost viciously, feeling his hands curl into fist at his sides.

________

 

Aramis initial angered reaction to his simple question had Athos' back off, not physically and neither did he falter in his step, but his expression closed down, mind turning numb. Usually Athos had this shell neatly build  all around him, a shield which would let him meet any confrontation with composure and indifference. In fact nothing was known to upset or even stir Athos' stoic character easily which made him a good leader in charge - no threat, no fight nor wound in battle, but apparently a close friend accusing him of betrayal could.

He was not fully himself after that night back then, his shell had gotten a crack and left him bare for d'Artagnan to witness. He was better now, in fact composure had taken over sometime on their long ride back. The initial feeling of all what was lost also enclosed the knowing that there also was nothing left to care about... which was lightening for Athos. He still had to deal with the sore memory - after all he was a human being and alcohol could not numb any emotion at any time... but at no point ever had Athos intended to involve his friends into the matter, to hurt their strides or worse: put their lives at stake.  

Nonetheless he was hurt by Aramis' words, although he knew that the other had a fair point to his sudden outburst. He couldn't react to it, not yet so they strode in silence, the day dawning above their heads. Athos' let Aramis do the talking, acknowledging his efforts to calm himself and to smooth the accusation. Athos soon learned he'd  probably affected Aramis more than Porthos with his decision, which was, in a way bizarre but the way Athos' exactly expected Aramis to handle the affair. He just knew him too well after that five years, which did not help in the slightest.

When Aramis continued to propound his mind and thoughts in a way Athos would never be able to that easily he suddenly stopped in his tracks, turning to Aramis, for the first time giving him the chance to hold their eye contact.

"No, Aramis, I understand what you are saying and that it's probably I that must apologize for.. what has happened. It was unfortunate, I did not intend any of it to happen this way, I-" Athos halted clearly in loss for words, his eyes flickered under constant blinking as he managed to hold Aramis' gaze for one moment longer and then narrow his eyes to the street.

"Maybe I can make you understand some day, both of you, for it was not my intent to let Porthos suffer after that battle, understand that.”

Athos' eyes moved from the ground and caught his friend's clenching fist beside him, taking it for something else. Athos showed no reaction though, instead next time their eyes met, Aramis could read a silent request to take an apology  - the most Athos could offer right now.

He had always found talking to Aramis particularly harder than to Porthos, the reasons unapparent. It was not only Porthos' distinct light spirit which made everyone around him easen up rather quickly, and probably also not the fact that they had know each other for a slightly longer amount of time..  Aramis was a fine man, with the blade and with his courtesy, a point in which they both were equal, showing their origin of nobility but this was where their commonalities ended.

Truth be told, the first time they met, Athos had thought of Aramis as a gigolo, too much in love with women and life itself to possible devote his life to the King in duty. It was intriguing.. but nothing Athos could acknowledge, even less after his believe in love was so merciless shattered. Soon Athos' picture had been corrected and their bond of trust proven itself with every battle fought back to back, but the fascination had stayed, carefully stored away in a corner of Athos' troubled mind.

 

_____

 

“It seems we are both sorry for what we did, then, my friend”, Aramis answered, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders at the older man’s words. Athos was a man of few words, curt and stoic of nature. To hear his friend at a loss for words was a sign of just how deeply Aramis’ earlier words had wounded.

But they had both said their apologies, and nothing good would come out of wallowing in guilt and self-pity. Aramis supposed they would have to give it time. A few days maybe, before they had come to terms with their own role in what had happened and would be back to being their usual selves.

If he hadn’t expected emotional words from Athos before, his next words made Aramis pause in surprise.

"I know it wasn’t. And I know some secrets are meant to be kept, but know that I’m here and I’d be honored to listen, should you ever want to share them.” Aramis said, moving closer.

This time, his hand found it’s way to Athos shoulder, squeezing gently. “Thank you.”, he added, softly, not sure if it was for Athos to have changed his mind about stopping to care for Porthos or for considering the two of them worthy enough to share his best held secrets with.

It was the beginning of their bond on the mend, Aramis thought.

“So...”, he prompted, letting go of Athos should and stepping forward with a considerably lighter heart. “As we both seem to be in need of a drink, would you care to join me? Or I you, if you prefer?” He wasn’t usually much for watching Athos drink himself into a stupor, but since Porthos was currently unable to play chaperon, he might as well enjoy some company this morning. If Athos would let him.

_____

 

Athos seemed in need of a moment's thinking, before answering with a slight nod. "I'd appreciate that." Aramis could not know that but it wasn't exactly his words which had made Athos pause for a moment, more like his encouraging hand on his shoulder.

Athos was not used to being touched. It had been too long and most times otherwise when had been involved in physical contact it was in battle. Soothing gestures like this asked too much of him and generally he didn't even respond at all.

 

In a way it was similar to their argument that two days ago, when Aramis literally had jumped his face, the unpleasant yank on his jacket - Athos had not even blinked.

Now he did, repeatedly, letting his gaze travel over his friends' features for assurance before he glances down the road once again.

"Let's go." 

Their usual tavern wasn't far, in fact it was remarkably empty this time of day, nothing Athos was very unhappy about, rather the opposite. They chose their regular table in the far corner of the dim room, nodding to the young lad to bring the usual - a fine bottle of wine accompanied by two heavy mugs.

 

Without hesitation Athos dug into his drink, filling the mug not nearly close to the edge to have his first deep gulps. Again his stomach growled in protest, because he actually hadn't really have a supper last night due his loss of appetite but he is sure the foul sensation would finally vanish if he kept on drinking, filling his stomach with something.. 

Between whiles, when Aramis was taking a sip himself, having the large mug in front of his face, Athos would watch him out of the corner of his eyes. It was seldom they sat here just the two of them, and if so, it was usually him or Aramis being accompanied by cheerfully chatting Porthos.

Arthos had no real feeling for when a situation got awkward, he didn't mind Aramis company, though a faint part in his mind was hoping that his feeling was mutual. 

"I will pay him a visit later", Athos eventually said with no real context, but Aramis could guess this was about Porthos. "Later when he's probably over the point where he likes to throw things at people that try to look after him." In response to Aramis puzzled expression Athos took a sip and almost showed something close to a smirk. "Happened once, close to our first meeting four years ago... before we actually came to know you." Athos weighed his head, musing. Remembering that, it was quite a thing that Porthos let Aramis anywhere close him when wounded. Their bounding really had become something extraordinary strong over the last years... for all three of them, which only made Athos regret his actions once again.

 

He needed his mug refilled.

_______

Athos, as was his wont, lost no time in bringing his cup to his lips and draining it greedily. Aramis, for all his earlier intentions to get drunk, found himself sipping from his instead. If pressed, he’d probably argue he was savouring the wine. But the truth of the matter was that the wine wasn’t all that worthy of savouring. Also, someone should probably make sure they were at least somewhat presentable for guard duty. Or, alternatively, to be able to stand on their own two feet for the duration of it.

 

At Athos sudden words, Aramis looked up, a bit startled, and laughed. He could just about imagine it. From his own experience, he knew that Porthos would get more ill tempered the longer he was kept from duty and play by the lingering effects of whatever injury he had acquired. Growing angrier and more frustrated the more Aramis fussed and coddled him, much to the chagrin of all of their fellow musketeers.

“Seeing that you’re alive and well, I’m guessing his aim at throwing things is as bad as his aim at shooting a pistol.”, Aramis threw back, shooting Athos a grin.

“But, if you are planning on visiting him anyway, I’d be much obliged if you told him that he is not to stand guard duty but to rest instead.” He had a pretty good idea how the big musketeer would take the news. “Try to remember to duck.”, he added, his grin growing wicked, and motioned for another bottle of wine to replace the one they had emptied.

It was mostly for Athos’ benefit, who could hold his liquor a whole lot better than Aramis could, especially on an empty stomach. Unsurprisingly, Porthos took an unequaled delight in serving Aramis all kinds of  alcohol of dubious quality and make. Aramis had absolutely no memory of what had transpired the last time Porthos had succeeded in this mission of his, but judging by the size of the hang-over alone, Aramis had concluded that listening to his friend had been one of his poorer decisions in life.

“We should probably eat, too. There won’t be any time for it later.”, he mused out loud. Unless you counted much later, after guard duty, that was.

 

_____

 

Athos just nodded to Aramis idea of them ordering some food to get their stomachs filled. He still wasn't exactly that hungry but he had enough sense to know they would probably weaken on duty if the didn't eat something now. It was summer and at this time of the year it tended to be specially hot in France. A musketeer fainting would probably make for the most unpleasant rumors…

"There is a reason Porthos is good with the blade", Athos huffs in his drink. They both remember Porthos' poor attempt to shoot a pistol while he had had a few drink before - did not turn out so nicely, in fact it killed a goat and scratched one ladie's stride as her dress was a mess afterwards someone had tackled her, jumping out of Porthos' shooting line.

Athos soon found, he was enjoying the meal with Aramis, the other certainly managed to take his mind off things and Athos was grateful for that. Aramis had always been the man of words in their midst and Athos liked listening to him. One time, he recalls, the other had read them some lousy poem which he had written for one of his earlier mistresses.... at least Athos had had enough decency to not burst out laughing at the end of the last verse. Even though the gesture did have a certain touch of melancholy to him, because it triggered some scenes from his past, but Athos had found Aramis' enthusiasm delightful.

Soon Athos even stopped drinking, even though there was still some liquor left in his mug. But he had enough and didn't feel like numbing his skull even further than his current state.

For the very first time, since they got to Paris, Athos thought the maybe he would be able to let the past rest as long as he had good friends like this by his side. They kept him upright and had restored his faith in trusting someone truly.

"I'm stuffed", Athos said, pushing the bowl with stew and the slice of bread away from him, watching Aramis. "How about you? Ready for duty? We should probably go to the garrison first and stock up on supplies and talk to Treville.." he paused "and I need a wash."

 ______

 

They had taken their meal in silence, but it was companionable and no longer strained, and the warm stew does wonder for Aramis’ mood, making him feel mellow and rather sleepy. A look at his companion tells him he is not the only one whose mood has improved by warm food in his belly. Aramis smiles at the thought and watched as Athos finished the last of his meal before addressing him.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”, he answered their unofficial leader. “I’d prefer a few hours of sleep right about now, actually, but I guess that has to wait until after.”

As if to prove his words, a yawn escaped Aramis. Yes, he could definitely do with some rest, now that he was sure his friends were safe and the air cleared between him and Athos. When the other man proposed visiting the garrison to stock up on supplies and brief Treville, Aramis was quick to agree despite his tiredness.

“We need to talk to him about giving Porthos a few days to regain his strength. And… was there anything else you needed to speak to him about other than debriefing?” Aramis wondered aloud. They hadn’t really had time before, what with rushing off after Bonnaire and springing their trap, but that didn’t mean they could skip on the tedious part of giving their mission reports.

“I don’t think the captain will mind us smelling of horses.”, Aramis told his friend with a laugh. “But if you want to take a bath before standing guard in the glare of the summer sun with no shade to be found, do go ahead. I would certainly welcome your company all the more for it.”, he added with a smirk.

“On the other hand, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay awake long enough to take a bath after having patrolled around the palace grounds for several hours, so I might as well heed your counsel on this occasion. Either way, I propose you postpone your visit to our wounded friend until we have finished our duty for today.”, he added, signaling their intent to pay their bill to the innkeeper.

“It’ll give us time to make ourselves presentable and report to Treville. And if we are lucky, Porthos will sleep well into the evening. Then he won’t notice he has missed guard duty and we won’t have to tell him of his continued state of sick leave until he has had time to calm down.”

As Aramis stifled a yawn and talked about getting a good night's rest, Athos gave him a sympathetic smile. "You and me both but you know it can't be helped. I suppose we will be pretty much crushing down our beds after this day..." A lesser part in Athos was hoping it was the truth, a full night of decent sleep could turn a man and ease his memory like no drink could, if it was granted to him that easily... 

"I'll see to it that Porthos will have a few days off', it's helping no one when he's falling out of his boots at some point due his state." There was actually a fair chance Porthos would be bound to lesser tasks for the coming few days, if not even staying in his bed entirely, Athos could be pretty convincing and usually the captain had a well listening ear to his first man in charge. "So I can deliver him the 'good news' in person later." There was the flash of a moment when Athos' mouth actually twitched into a smirk before it faded again. He was known to have his quick touches of wry humor, though they were rare. Generally it was a sign that his mood was rather well.

 

Having payed for their meal and drinks, they stood and made their way back outside. By now it was already late in the morning, and the streets were bustling with activity. Settling his hat on his head, Aramis turned to address his friend once more.

“Well, I guess this is where we part for now. I will see you at the garrison, let’s say in about an hour?” Aramis asked. 

"See you in an hour then", Athos nodded to the other and bade him goodbye on the streets in front of the tavern. "And try not to fall asleep in the bathtub." His face still had that honest expression as he said it, but the look laying on the friend was warm. And so they parted, Athos a short while later knockin on the door of his landlady, requesting buckets of water heated up for a bath.

Having said his farewells to Athos, Aramis lost no time in making his way back to his lodgings, where he asked water to be heated and a bath to be prepared. Grabbing a flagon of already heated water he busied himself with checking and cleaning his pistols and musket. Having cleaned off the black powder and finished oiling the flint and barrel, he set the weapons aside to dry. By now the water had been drawn up, and Aramis was quick to submerge himself in his bath.

Normally Athos didn't bother much and took his bath ice cold as it came out of the well, especially in summer it was a fair refreshment and did its job with the cleaning if you just scrubbed hard enough with the brush.

But Athos needed to get rid of the stench of smoke in his hair and the dirt on his skin. He wanted to wash off any remains of the last two days to put and informal end to this. Plus he couldn't stand his own sight in the mirror much at this point.

Half an hour later he hovered in the wooden bathtub, snorting under the much too hot water as it burned his skin on first contact but he kept going and rubbed every strain he could detect on his body with the rough brush and a handful of soap.

Athos mind started to wander, not to the previous couple days, but to his friends, Porthos would be more than wise to stay in his room for now, d'Artagnan would probably join him and Aramis later that day, which left Aramis who had told him taking a bath was actually a good idea.

After one minute or so Athos realized he was following his thoughts of Aramis washing himself probably very thoroughly in his own tub and forced himself to direct his mind to their coming duty instead.

After the obligatory could bucket of water, splashed over himself to rinse the soap off, Athos chose some fresh clothes and left the room, hair still wet. He couldn't stand being alone in his room for the moment, totally different to his intentions before breakfast and his meeting with Aramis.

This way, he was pretty early to the garrison and couldn't think of a reason to wait with the talk to Treville. Better get over with it and spend some more time checking on the inventory, before he'd gather Aramis and they roam out to their shift on the streets.

~*~

 


	2. Chapter 2

_____

The warm water was doing wonders for Aramis’ sore muscles and the aches that came with spending several days in the saddle. And after letting himself soak for several minutes, Aramis could feel sleep sneaking up on him despite Athos’ earlier warning. Therefore, he made quick work of washing his hair and scrubbing the last dirt of the road off of his skin, before levering himself out of the tub.

 

Having dried of, he was halfway through pulling on a fresh set of clothing when he felt a flare of pain down his back. Frowning, Aramis probed the area with careful fingers, and couldn’t help a hiss of pain escaping himself. Trying to turn in such a way to get a better look at his back turned out to be a rather unpleasant affair, but the aid of a mirror revealed a line of dark, angry bruising down the length of his back. The discoloration ran from roughly between his shoulder blades to the small of his back.

 

Upon closer examination, he found the edges of the bruise were already taking on a greenish color, and though still rather painful to the touch, Aramis knew there was nothing to be done about it now.

 

For a moment, he was confused as to the origins of the injury. Then he remembered the flare of pain when the blow had first landed, running down his back and making him wince, during their initial fight with Bonnaire’s partner. But he had forgotten all about it as soon as he had seen Porthos take an axe to the shoulder. No doubt the rush of battle had masked the pain as well. And later, well, there had been making sure to treat Porthos and burying Bonnaire’s wife and delivering the man himself to the Spanish.

 

Aramis was just glad that in the heat of battle, and the confusion that followed, none of his companions had seemed to notice. Still, he couldn’t help letting out a groan. Porthos was going to kill him if he found out Aramis had neglected his own injury over Porthos’ wound. Never mind that there wasn’t really all that much to be done about a bruise.

 

Even if it was a rather spectacular one.

 

There was nothing to be gained from needlessly worrying his friends, though, and so Aramis decided that the best course of action was to make no mention of it. Rummaging through his supplies, he unearthed a thick, cooling herbal balm for treating swelling and keep down bruising and applies the tincture with practised ease.

 

Now he’d only have to be careful not to let anyone give him a friendly pat on the back and all would be well. And with only Athos to keep him company for a while, the chances of noone noticing were actually in his favour.

 

Having decided on a course of action, Aramis finished dressing, slower and mindful of his back this time and gathered his weapons. Ten minutes later found him entering the courtyard of the garrison, just as was Athos exiting the captain’s office.and descending the stairs leading to Treville’s quarters. Aramis met the older man at the bottom, greeting him with a smile.

 

“I see you insisted on having all the fun on your own.”, Aramis told him, amusement clear in his voice. “Anything noteworthy? Or can we restock our ammunition and powder and be off?”

 

Not that he was in any particular hurry to guard the vast gardens surrounding the king’s palace. But while special orders from Treville usually meant an escape from the everyday life of guard duty and useless parades, it usually also meant trouble.

 

_____

 

  
Athos greeted Aramis with a nod and rubbed his neck lazily, glancing around the courtyard faintly distracted. He still looked tired and rather pale in the face, but at least he appeared representable enough for a man in the king's duty. "You've missed nothing of interest , except Trevilles sympathetic face when I told him about Porthos' injury.".. and told me a three times to be more careful and remember our fighting line in battle." The exchanged a glance and Athos rose his eyebrow. Their captain really had a soft spot for his troopers, taking every report of loss or injury very.. personal, in a way, he was something of a father to the most of them - especially the young one - and Athos and Aramis knew that the three of them were actually some of the captain's favorites.

"But you were right, the captains doesn't wish to see Porthos anywhere around here for the next couple of days - and apparently it's our task to ensure that."

 

They headed of to the stocks, gathered pouches of musket balls, their rations for the day and looked after their horses for a moment before the palace gardens would be their next destination. It was going to be a beautiful day, so much could one say this far, for it was still early midday and fortunately not that particularly hot.

 

Athos had never been really fond of the gardens round the king's castle, they reminded him too much of his own estate - not to mention the ridiculous flower arrangements and the neatly cut bushes in shape of mythical creatures and patriarchs of older days.

 

But somehow it was different to roam the gritted paths around the place in just Aramis' quiet company, having easy conversation about more or less personal matters and somehow it felt weirdly like a private thing... something Athos could not quite put his finger on but it felt nothing wrong.

 

Normally a gentleman took his mistress to the gardens to enjoy a moment of intimacy and yet there they were... the irony of the thought did not slip Athos' attention.

 

But before he could think of anything to say in that direction a distant call of a peacock let Athos hold in this strode and he turned to Aramis. "Oh forgot telling you: there actually seems to be an issue we are to ordered to take care of, concerning... this", he pointed with his head into the vague direction of the peacock's call, looking a bit uncertain.

 

"Apparently some lads were after the royal birds last night and had quite the fun hunting for feathers or even taking the whole animal to sell it on the markets..." Athos winced, obviously fighting back the impulse to pull a face over the ridiculousness of the thought alone. It meant the Musketeers were now officially degraded to petsitting peacocks..

 

At least it sounded like a pretty unchallenging task for the day, which meant they could spend the day in the gardens, having a cozy eye on the big birds and besides that, just rest.

 

A few meters afar they spotted the first birds swagger about, giving their distinctive call and eyeing them suspiciously. Athos sat down in the shadow near a small fountain, closing his eyes for a moment, just taking the quiet and the peace of the place in.

 

When he opened them again after a moment, his eyes kept watching Aramis, following the line of his jaw and taking his features in for a moment, until their direct eye contact would last a heartbeat too long.

 

"I think d'Artagnan will join us later." Athos stretched on the bench he was occupying half and smiled to himself. "Sounds like an assignment just made for him, don't you think? I mean chasing birds and shooing them back into their stable... "

 

______

 

By the time they had restocked and relieved the two musketeers standing guard, the sun had reached it’s highest position in the sky. Still, Aramis would take a little heat over making his rounds drenched to the bone any day. And despite the notable absence of merry Porthos and the nearly constant chatter he brought, he found himself enjoying Athos’ quiet company and thoughtful conversation.

 

This way, they’d already spent the better part of two hours patrolling their assigned part of the vast garden, when his friend pulled to a stop and told him about his earlier words with Treville.

 

“Guarding over-sized birds?”, Aramis asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking?”

 

The look on Athos face told Aramis he wasn’t, but at least they seemed to agree on just how ridiculous this whole thing was. There was no helping it, then, Aramis conceded with a sigh, and followed Athos in the direction they had first heard the distinctive call of one of the birds from.

 

Sure enough, they were greeted by the sight of several of the royal bird only a few moments later. And although Aramis had no idea how many of them there were supposed to be, there certainly didn’t seem to be a shortage. And neither did the animals seem to be in any particular danger right now, giving them the opportunity to retreat towards the shade of a group of sycamore trees.

 

Aramis remained as he was, standing a few paces from where Athos had settled down, resting his hand on the handle of his sword as he surveyed the wide stretch of meticulous flowerbeds and greenery in front of him. Despite the shade of the trees they had found themselves under, the heat was now starting to become uncomfortable. The fact that they were decked out in their full outfit didn’t help, and Aramis itched to be done with their rounds and take of the extra layer his musketeers cloak provided.

 

Feeling someone watching him Aramis turned, surprised to find his friend’s even gaze contemplating him. For a moment longer than was strictly necessary, their eyes met and held, and Aramis found warmth rising to his cheeks.

 

Then, Athos refocused his attention and eyed their newest charge in a slightly contemptuous manner. When he spoke, there was a grin on his face, however.

 

Aramis shook himself out of his momentary stupor, not quite sure what exactly just happened, and why it had seemed to throw him off as it had. When he spoke, however, there was no trace of his inner confusion evident in his voice.

 

“Well, they are just like big chickens, and I’d wager there’s quite a few of those running around in Gascony. I’m sure our young friend would feel right at home.”, he commented with a teasing edge to his words. The mental image was just too amusing not to entertain, really.

 

“Still, do you really think someone would be stupid enough to sneak into the royal gardens in broad daylight to try and steal fancy chicken? Especially considering the fact that they’re loud and not particularly inconspicuous to sell.” Aramis wondered, gesturing to the birds in question with a flourish of his hands.

 

“Not to mention that they are guarded by some of the king’s best musketeers, as much as they are opposed to this fine task.”, he added, joining his friend and bumping his shoulder in a gesture of good natured camaraderie he was more used to sharing with Porthos. And not with Athos, whose mantle of distance and aloofness kept the small touches Aramis was found of bestowing without so much as a word and whose quiet solitude kept him separate from his companions even during the merriest celebrations.

 

Still, it felt right, somehow, here in the quiet and peace of the vast gardens. And for reasons Aramis couldn’t understand, Athos seemed more settled, more at ease with himself now than he had before. Like the weight of the world he was carrying on his shoulders was still there, but it was no longer crushing him. It looked good on him, Aramis thought, and he hoped it was meant to last. His friend deserved to be happy.

 

It was in the middle of these thoughts that an idea took form in his mind.

 

“Or do you think peacock tastes so good that, once you’ve tried it, you cannot help to continue stealing them to satisfy your need”, he pondered out loud for Athos benefit, before adding in a conspiratory whisper that couldn’t quite hide the laugh that wanted to escape him: “Come to think of it, I’ve never had any. Maybe I should try sneaking one past the regular guards to try it myself?”

 

Athos gave him a look that Aramis interpreted as ‘utterly unimpressed’, and continued accordingly.

 

“Maybe you should help me.”

 

________

 

"Or maybe I should just let them have their way with you. The peacocks.. they seem rather fond of you, Aramis", Athos chuckled, watching one of the eye-catching bird casually strolling closer, probably expecting food or at least a treat. Athos wasn't even sure what peacocks normally prefered to eat but the bunch of them looked well-fed and fat enough.

 

"One of the best musketeers should probably look after their backside, this one is getting conspicuously close."

 

It was the first time in like months that Athos actually laughed, when the great bird approached his friend with a thrilling sound, fanning out his long tail feathers. "... or maybe it's planning to mate with you."

 

Athos grinned, as the other shooed the curious bird off with a swift of his cloak - at least the thing was good for something besides storing heat.

 

Besides the event, nothing much happened so far for the next half an hours, the sun made Athos drowsy and he fought the impulse to yawn more than a couple of times. It was, when they were startled by frantic steps on the gritted path. This was surely an advantage of duty in the gardens - nobody would sneak to you on those paths unnoticed...

 

Watching the approaching bird with a wary eye, Aramis was ready to counter Athos comment with a witty remark on his own, when the peacock displayed his plumage and the other man laughed. Not a derisive snort or sarcastic twist of the mouth but a real honest to God laugh. Aramis hadn’t heard that sound coming from the other man in so long, he couldn’t actually remember when it had last happened.

 

For the longest time, Aramis was speechless with surprise. Still, he couldn’t help the smile slowly stealing across his face as he shooed the bird off with the lapels of his cloak, soaking in the presence of his friend. Glad that for once, Athos seemed to be free of worries.

 

"Athos! Aramis!", a familiar voice suddenly sounded through the hot morning sun and when d'Artagnan appeared between the curtailed bushes, Athos relaxed visibly, withdrawing the hand from his weapon. He shielded his eyes against the sun, squinting to the newcomer.

 

"D'Artagnan what is it, thought the captain said-"

 

"You have to see this!" the younger man disrupted the other's words, waving furious into their opposite direction. "It's a mess, and it's terrible! Come"

 

Not holding for a single moment but all but spinning round on his heals d'Artagnan headed back into the directed he'd come from, Athos and Aramis exchanging a glance before the followed him in a hurry.

 

Running was not a fun thing in the burning sun, but Athos didn't not complain just once in all his time in the king's duty. As long as they stayed hydrated, the would be pretty much fine.

 

Fine was something you wouldn't exactly call the discovery the three men made a moment later: peacock feathers scattered all about the place, the lawn and the path, beside it stains of blood and traces of fighting which Athos examined with a deep frown between his brows. "Someone was after those birds.. and evidently got one good. If it was just one..." They looked around in distress, thinking about what to do.. it was very likely they would get more than a scolding for every single bird they'd lost during their parade..

 

If this couldn’t get them into serious trouble, Aramis might have laughed at the three of them standing around a bunch of feathers and worrying over the fate of a bird. At least whoever the perpetrator was seemed to have given up on subtlety and stealth, Aramis amended, when the sound of a shot rang out.

 

"They still have to be somewhere near, the blood's fresh", Athos muttered, whipping around on his heels as a loud shot run through the air. It had them all running.. again.

Athos gestured silent for them to part and track the intruders in a circle, cutting of their way out.

 

‘They’ll have every single man standing guard in the vicinity on top of them in less than five minutes’, Aramis thought. ‘Are they really that desperate to get themselves killed?’

Before he could think more on the matter, they broke through an outcrop of shrubs and into a clearing and came face to face with two men.

 

It was two young blokes, tall and gruff looking, one of them holding a large sack that was baggy with its content.. Athos could just guess. They were sprinting after the lot of peacocks, fleeing in utter panic, as the next shot echoed and hit one of the bird's beautiful tail. The moment the musketeers and d'Artagnan were spotted Athos shouted out.

 

"D'Artagnan, go after the birds, hold them together and don't lose a single one of them!" He found himself in close combat with the guy holding the pistol soon, while he let Aramis deal with the sack guy.

 

If they had expected the young blokes to flee first thing they were spotted, they were terribly mistaken..youth was a reckless motivator and literally drove them into their swords instead.

 

The thieves noticed them not a moment later, and, abandoning their previous efforts to capture more of the king’s peacocks, turned towards their attackers, dropping their cargo and drawing their weapons. Barking an order to d’Artagnan, Athos launched himself at the first of the two men. Aramis, followed hot on his heels, giving silent thanks when he realized the thief hadn’t yet had time to reload his pistol and Athos wasn’t charging head-first into certain death.

 

The sound of steel meeting steel brought him back to the present, as Athos engaged the taller of the two men. Just in time to feel a ball whiz past him, missing his shoulder by less than a foot. He whispered another prayer in the time it took him to draw his sword and fall into a fighting stance. In the next instant the thief was on him with a vicious trust.

 

Parring the first blow, Aramis feinted an attack to the right, and is surprised to find his moves matched almost evenly. His opponent was broader than he is himself, but also slower, Aramis found, and skilled. Certainly more so than he had expected of a mere thief, he has time to think, before their swords met again in a flurry of parries and thrusts. There’s something like a rhythm to the exchange, born out of years of experience, with both sides trying and failing to gain an advantage.

 

They were both breathing hard when a wild swing has Aramis twisting sideways with a grimace - the movement aggravating the bruising on his back - and falling back to avoid a high sweep aimed for his shoulder. There was an almost triumphant smile on his opponent’s face.

 

And Aramis felt grim satisfaction when the other man fell for a false attack and left himself wide open for a follow-up. A trust to the thigh sent the other stumbling, and Aramis lost no time in pushing his advantage until the man lay prone before him, wounded but alive.

 

______

 

Athos almost felt sorry for his opposer, the bloke was barely older than d'Artagnan but his angry and rushed attacking was leaving him no choice. "Easy there, boy. You might get yourself killed..."

 

The man snarled at him, made a lunge and was aiming at his left arm, which Athos drew out of the hitting area quickly and parried the attack with his own blade. "What does it matter? If we don't get a chance to sell that meat and feathers on the market, we can as well starve to death!"

It was then that Athos notices the young man's ragged clothing and the sword he was fighting him was, seemed too obviously stolen..

 

They thought the king was a fair man, or more like it was their duty to believe it, while in fact like in any other city in France poverty and hunger drove the people to the most desperate actions to feed their mouths..

 

Athos couldn't blame him, not personally, but in his honour as a musketeer he had to take action in prosecuting the intruder. But, as Aramis had so generously set the prompt, he would have to make him incapable of acting.

 

The anger and desperation the boy laid into his attacks were a pain to handle, so Athos restrained to blocking for the first five or so minutes.. with the intention to let his opponent flounder and waste his energy in useless attacks.

 

Then, when he saw an opening, Athos aimed of the boy's waist, making him hold the cut with a terrified expression before the blade directly pointed to the other's throat.. making him back off a few steps.

 

"Drop.. the weapon, gentleman", Athos told him quietly, actually having a hard time keeping his attention on the young man, as they heard d'Artagnan snorting and swearing in the distance, mixed up with the irritable cackling of the birds.

 

Oh he was tempted to turn his head, though he was smarter than that.

 

The young man eventually let his gaze and also the sword drop, breathing heavily and looking to his mate, who also looked like a beat dog.

 

They were right on in time - with suddenly a dozen of guards streaming around the gardens, heading in their direction and taking aim on the to intruders with their weapons.

 

The sudden cacophony of shouts and barked orders announced the arrival of back-up, and only once the thief was healed to his feet and secured by a pair of guards, did Aramis lock up and step away.

 

Sweeping his hair out of his face and resettling his hat, Aramis let his eyes sweep over the scene before him, seeking out his companions and looking them over for injuries almost automatically. Given their penchant for getting into trouble, the act had already become second nature to Aramis.

 

He found Athos only a few steps ahead, breathing hard but otherwise unhurt, and let out a relieved breath. Their eyes met over the commotion of the people around them and Aramis returned Athos smile with a raised eyebrow - an admonishment on deaf ears, he knew, but not for want of trying - before they turned their gaze in the direction he had last seen d’Artagnan.

 

Athos shook his head. "You can arrest the two, they're done fighting. Oh, and watch out with the sack, there might be some delicate content matter inside."

 

While the boys were taken into custody, Athos and Aramis finally had a minute to calm down and sweep the sweat on their foreheads. Athos smiled to Aramis, looking him up and down, his eyes saying 'that was a close call there' but he the right decency to keep quiet about it. Instead they watched d'Artagnan almost in awe... sure the boy was determined.

 

"D'Artagnan, careful, don't let them get too close to the pon-!" But it was too late. Some birds made a squawking sound and then there was a loud splash.

 

Athos couldn't believe his eyes, as he squinted them shut for moment and blinked into d'Artagnans direction... before turning to Aramis. "Well at least he got his temper cooled down a bit now.."

 

There was a moment of absolute silence that follow and had Aramis blinking his eyes in quiet disbelief. Then d’Artagnan’s head broke through surface with a string of rather colorful profanities that would have made Porthos proud. At least Athos seemed to be enjoying himself.

 

“Excellent musketeer material, that one. Remind me again how he managed to save your life without tripping over his own two feet?”, Aramis commented, voice desert-dry, remembering the first time they had crossed paths with the young Gascon.

 

The almost haunted look that came over Athos’ face at the words, however, threw him completely.

 

“I ... “, Aramis started, worry settling in his chest, and made to move towards his friend. Could it be that Athos was still this unsettled by the event? Or was there something else Aramis had done? The confusion he felt must have shown on his face, but by the time Aramis had reached his friend’s side, Athos had already turned, facing away. And before Aramis could catch the other man’s shoulder or ask what was wrong, they were interrupted by d’Artagnan’s shout of: “A little help, maybe?” as the young Gascon tried to clamber out of the pond he had fallen into. Startling them both into action.

 

________

 

As amused as Athos was by young d'Artagnans involuntary bath, Aramis' words hit a trigger in his mind that he so had wished to lock away more carefully ... but the incident had happened just too recently. Maybe he would have to tell his two friends at some point, even though d'Artagnan had kept quiet until now and Athos gave him credit for that. He didn't want to burden anyone with it for it was his concern his and his alone but if it would make Aramis and Porthos understand and prevent further hurting, it would probably compensate the price ...

 

As much as he wanted to forget the event in the burning manor, he could still feel the heat of the flames biting his lungs. If it weren't for the young Gascon back then, he probably would have died in that house.

 

Turning his back on Aramis, Athos took a deep breath before he nodded over to the pond. ".. let's help him out."

 

When they reached d’Artagnan’s side to help him out of the water, the boy was still cursing up a blue streak, but as soon as he had solid ground beneath his feet, a smile returned to his face. It was this resilience and eagerness, the ability to be back on his feet in an instant, that Aramis admired most about the young man. Nevertheless, he could think of about a hundred and one things he’d rather be doing than taking a dip in the smelly body of water they’d found themselves standing next to.

 

D'Artagnan was a puffing and blowing mess as both Athos and Aramis had a good grab on his lower arms and pulled him out of the slicky pond. The other was cursing the peacocks and once he got dry ground under his feet shook himself like a dog. "Good thing you two got the robbers. Damn birds, at least I'm cooler now."

 

He squinted from Aramis to Athos and grinned. "You should try this sometimes, it's really freshening."

 

The peacocks by now had calmed down a bit, stalking down the lawn into the direction of their stables. Athos had no clue how many exactly were missing, but they had done the best they could, and he was sure Treville would understand and them put a good word to the king.

 

"Yes no thank you, maybe later.."

 

Athos gave the boy a slight pat on the back and turned away from them.

 

So assumedly this was their duty for today then... not much to be done now the intruders were captured.

 

D'Artagnan slumped down into the grass and closed his eyes, arms and legs spread to let the sun dry his clothes. It wouldn't take long at this time of day though. "How is Porthos?", he eventually opened on eye, peeking to his friends.

 

Aramis felt a smile tugging at his lips despite the unease he had felt only a few moments earlier and even Athos was humouring the boy with a grunted monosyllabic answer here and there.

 

But his face was shuttered and gave away nothing, and he kept avoiding Aramis’ eyes completely. At this point, any and all attempts to talk would be unwelcome at best and met with contempt at worst, and so Aramis kept his questions and concerns to himself while he listened to d’Artagnan half-heartedly.

 

Athos looked down at the young Gascony, face indifferent again, keeping away every emotion to Aramis' former question so the subject wouldn't come up again. "Brooding in his bed I suppose. I'll pay him a visit later, make sure he's not ignoring the captain's orders.You know, Porthos and standstill does not exactly make for the best combination.."

 

By the time they were relieved by two of their fellow musketeers, Aramis was about ready to drop. The action and worry of the last few days alone had left him feeling tired, but with the fight not two hours ago on top of it, he felt dead on his feet. And then there was Athos. While Aramis knew his friend’s mood to be unbalanced at the best of times, he couldn’t remember when the highs and lows had been quite so pronounced.

 

Athos readjusted his hat. "Right I'm going over to Porthos' now, if you have something for him, like get-well wishes or flower bouquets, hand them over to me now." He wasn't asking Aramis to keep him company and along and neither did he integrate d'Artagnan, so it was pretty much clear he wanted some time to himself. But he did ask Aramis to report to the captain, as if it would made a difference..

 

In fact, when the heat would slowly pass later, Athos felt like a cool glass of red wine for a change...

 

_______

 

It wasn't a surprise, then, that Athos was quick to announce his intentions to check up on Porthos. His words leaving no doubt to the fact that company would not be welcome right now. After Athos had left, D’Artagnan too, was off to help his landlady with some request or another, giving a look of fake annoyance at Aramis’ smirk. Loudly ensured Aramis that he would be going back to sleep - alone - as soon as he was done lending a hand.

 

Well then, Aramis thought, finding himself alone. Now all that was left to do was to report to the captain. He’d make sure to visit Porthos again too. With the theft they’d put a stop to, he was sure that Athos would have taken his leave of Porthos by the time Aramis had finished his report. It should give his two friends enough time to clear the air between them after what had happened.

 

And despite his earlier Aramis had no intention of neglecting his friend’s wound because he might be in a bad temper. And who knew what his two idiots got up to when Aramis wasn’t around to make sure the prescribed rest was actually adhered to.

 

And then, there would be rest. Finally. And if anything or anyone dared to disturb his sleep tonight, Aramis thought moodily, he might just have to bodily harm someone.

_______

 


	3. Chapter 3

_______

The distinctive knock on Porthos' door had a low grunt in response. One long, two short was their signal and Athos stepped inside the dimmed room, pulling a face over the stale air which greeted him inside the small lodging.

 

"Mate, time for some fresh air", Athos declared, then walked to the window to open the lids with a decided push, making Porthos growl behind him again. "Naah, don't let the bloody heat in, I'll stew in my own juice here. Damn it's hot today.."

 

The injured heaved himself up on his elbows, blinking to Athos.  Good, at least it appeared he had been granting himself more than the casual shuteye.

 

"You've been in bed until now?" Athos asked, one brow raised but clearly appreciation in his voice.

 

"What else I'm suppose to do", Porthos huffed back, cocking his head towards the injured shoulder. "I know you've been speaking to Treville..."

 

Athos pulled himself a stool beside the other's bed and sat down, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.

 

"You okay? Honestly you look like a mess", Porthos said, watching the other with narrowed eyes. "It's the heat, eh?"

 

"Beside lack of sleep and other things, yes", Athos answered evasive.. it took him a moment in which his eyes were ghosting through the room, looking for a thing to hold on to. "Listen I wanted to apologize to you for the other day... I've not been myself lately it seems."

 

Porthos made him stop with a wave of his hand. "Don't mention it. No harm done, I'll be up and kicking before you know it." The with toothed grin made Athos smile in gratitude to the other's understanding. "Right, good to know then... so anything you need?"

 

Athos stayed with the friend until early evening, mostly to keep Porthos some company. Despite his weariness and his usual dislike for conversations he had to tell Porthos about their peacock duty in detail. And he left nothing out, not even d'Artagnans bath in the slicky pond, making Porthos burst with laughter so hard, he was frightened he would tear the stitches in his flesh. But Aramis' work proved to withstand even a man like Porthos.

 

The most tricky part was trying to imitate Aramis nurturing skills, which left Athos  at a loss. He dabbed the wound with a wet cloth and rolled a clean piece of bandage around the other's shoulder blade which indeed slipped when Porthos layed back down the mattress.

 

"It's no use I'll send Aramis at some point", Athos said wearily after he had cleaned his hands in a bowl of water.

 

"Yeah you do that and you get some shuteye yourself, hear me." Porthos literally pointed his friend out the door with his look and Athos didn't do so much to protest.

 

The sundown drew Athos gaze to it, making him sigh. They were probably going to have a thunderstorm later due the heat they've had endured all day. Athos did not care, his mood was sensitive to changes in weather pretty accurately and rain was a fuel to his melancholy. Maybe it would be just what he needed tonight. So he made sure to bring a bottle of Merlot along when he finally was heading home to his own lodgings.

 

His plan was to have a good nightcap to himself, a toast to burning memories and such and eventually call it an early night - he felt like he could sleep through the whole next couple of days.

 

The first raindrops started pouring down, right the moment when Athos entered the hallway of his landladies house. He stepped up the stairs in a dumb trot, neglecting the meal which was set for him on the table by his landlady - she tended to look after him with a caring eye since he was a man and thus pretty much unable to look after himself and also for he was a very reliable lodger who paid his rent just on time every month. Also he never brought any prostitutes home which would harm the image and the nighttime peace of the house.

 

First thing Athos did, when he entered his rooms was close the door behind him and then open the bottle of wine equally. There was no clean glass left, so Athos took it right out of the bottle. Ugh, this was a strong one he had snatched there - just all the better, he thought to himself as he let himself fall down a chair near the window. He would probably watch the sky for some time tonight, try to read the oddly shaped clouds which hung low over the city just now..

 

It helped him think…

  
  
______

  


Having  finished his report with Treville as quickly and efficiently as possible, Aramis then stopped by Porthos lodgings. As he had predicted, he found his friend alone, but despite the feigned groan of annoyance at Aramis’ entrance, he wasn’t in an altogether terrible mood.

 

“If I swear to never move a muscle ever again, will you stop mother-henning me?”, Porthos asked, before Aramis had even set foot into the room.

 

“Actually, I think that would require you to cease breathing, which would be quite worrisome, so the answer would probably be no.”, Aramis answered dryly, taking off his hat and cloak and setting them on the single chair located next to the window. “And stop pretending you aren’t glad for the company.”

 

“It’s not the company I have a problem with, just their bedside manners.”, Porthos said, sitting up in his bed and shooting Aramis a cheeky grin. “You realize Athos was just here and did all of the fussing already, do you?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure Athos is a man of utmost honor and would never do anything to hurt your fragile sensitivities.”, Aramis answered with a roll of his eyes. “But excuse me if my faith in his tremendous skills to take care of himself, not to mention other people, is somewhat lacking at times. Now don’t make this any harder on yourself and turn around.”, he added, his gloves joining his coat and hat on the chair.

 

“Bossy!”; Porthos muttered under his breath, but did as he was told.

 

Athos seemed to have tried to help, if nothing else, and the wound looked to be healing nicely. Having cajoled Porthos into letting him check, apply a soothing balm to stave off infection and re-bandage his wound, Aramis spent another half an hour keeping his friend company. At least until it became difficult to keep his eyes open and Porthos shooed him out with a shove to his shoulder and a pointed look to the door. At least it hadn’t been the massive bruise that was his back, Aramis thought with a sheepish smile and, having gathered his possessions, bid his friend goodnight.

 

The walk back to his apartment was uneventful and dinner a simple affair, bread with butter and some cheese, and before the hour was over, Aramis fell into his bed and into sleep.

 

The next thing he knew, there was a crash outside his door, it was the middle of the night, and his back was killing him.

 

“Wha…?”, Aramis asked into the darkness, not yet fully awake. For a moment he thought he’d mistaken the sound of the storm that was raging outside, but then the sound came again. Definitely a knock, Aramis decided, sitting up with a groan. His back wouldn’t be the only thing killing him if he didn’t get rid of whoever intruder causing a ruckus in the hallway.

 

His hand found his dagger automatically, lighting a candle took considerably more fumbling. Leaving the light sitting on the small table, Aramis made his way quietly over to the door. Sometimes living on the ground floor had its disadvantages, Aramis thought, wishing for the advantage of high ground a staircase would have provided him with in case his nightly visitor wasn’t a friendly one.

 

There was nothing to be done about it now, and the quicker this was resolved, the quicker Aramis could return to his bed and to sleep. When he swung open the door in an attempt to catch whoever had disturbed him off guard, however, the figure stumbling inside was a familiar one.

 

“Athos?!”, Aramis hissed in disbelief, caught somewhere between fury and worry. He dropped his dagger in favour of catching his friend before he could fall, pulling the man into his arms and further into the room and kicking his door closed behind them to keep out the storm.

 

“Athos, has something happened? Are you hurt?”, he asked, hands roaming the other man’s sides to check for injuries, relieved to find none. Frowning at the other’s drenched clothing and the smell of alcohol on his breath Aramis made to wrestle the other man into one of the chairs in the room, only to be stopped by Athos vice-like grip on his shoulders.

 

“Athos,” Aramis warned, feeling the wetness of the other man’s cloak soaking his own clothes and making him shiver.

 

_________

 

Athos was drunk, like really carried away this time, which spoke volumes since Athos was quite 'used' to the regular drink.. Maybe it was the heat mixed with the lack of food in his stomach which had led to this.

 

He did not remember how he actually got to Aramis' place. Just that he had woken up in the middle of the night, probably haunted by the ghosts of his past following him into his dreams. He could not remember.

 

As Athos woke up with a sharp pain to his forehead, he had felt this really strong urge to apologize to Aramis for his inappropriate behaviour. He needed Aramis like he needed Porthos, both of them to understand, to be still his friends. He was dependent, he could not endure losing another person though his actions... it would pretty much break what faith had left.

 

Porthos' words had been a relief. Maybe he was lucky and Aramis would grant him a similar salvation.

 

Drunk Athos did not know time, it was irrelevant, like the thought that the other was probably asleep by now or that it was pitch dark outside and literally pouring from the sky - he needed to speak to Aramis right now.

 

With this thought fixed in him, Athos had left his lodging and followed the street up to Aramis' housing, muttering to himself, now and then pausing in his unsteady strode to hold on to the wall of a building or the remains of a market stall.

 

It had taken all energy that was left in him to figure out, which door belonged to Aramis and then he had forgotten how to knock and more or less slumped down against the wooden door.

 

The rain had not been so cold, thank god for the summer heat, but it had soaked Athos' shirt completely and helped only little to clear his mind a bit..

 

And now here he was, on that chair in his friend's chambers, fingers clawed into Aramis' sleeve like letting go would mean losing him. He lifted his face to hold Aramis' eye which flickered over his face in a terrified need of an explanation.

 

"I am sorry", Athos slurred, nearly choking on his own words and he gave a dry cough before he tried again. "Aramis, I'm so sorry for everything.. didn't mean to-"

 

Some more words came out incoherently like they weren't even addressed to the other. Athos was swaying in his seat, clearly having a hard time to sit upright.. and he felt sick.

 

"What happened.. you know, it was my fault. All of it is my fault. I didn't mean for it to happen, I wanted to run from it.. thought maybe I could outrun it."

 

Finally Athos let loose of the sleeve of his friend's night shirt and his arm dropped uselessly to his side. "Turned out I couldn't. I'm pathetic, this.. is pathetic. You must think the worst of me.."

 

Aramis could see that the other was shivering slightly, it must have been the exhaustion, the wetness the fear to make a mistake again..

 

____

 

Aramis had thought getting the other man to sit down and talk would have helped dissipating his worry. But then Athos went pliant in his arms and the words started pouring out of him and Aramis unease mounted into fear.

 

“Athos, you’re not making any sense!”, he told the other man, worry making his words harsher than he had intended. But Athos simply kept talking, as if he hadn’t heard him at all.

 

His friend was a brooding drunk who prefered solitude and quiet. This, though, this was different. Too many words, too many emotions and too much rawness. The Athos he had come to know throughout the years would never have sought any of them out, and he would never have shown himself so open and vulnerable. Something was not right, and Aramis did not know how to help the other man in his time of need.

 

“Look at me!”, Aramis hissed, grabbing the other’s face in both hands when the other refused to meet his eyes. “This wasn’t your fault, do you understand me. You’re one of the greatest men I know and I am honored to call you my friend. All of us are. There is nothing pathetic about you, Athos.”

 

“Nothing at all.”, he repeated in an almost whisper, thumbs stroking along the other man’s cheeks in a soothing motion, their foreheads almost touching. “And whatever it is you think you need my forgiveness for, you have it. Tenfold. A hundred-fold.”

 

Athos was shivering; they both were, but it had nothing to do with the cold. He’d have to get the other man out of his wet clothes, get something warm into his stomach, but Aramis found himself reluctant to let go. It wasn’t much, but just the simple presence of another human being, of human touch, might help tether his friend to the here and now. Might help him realize that he was safe and with a friend.

 

Gradually, the shivers lessened, then stopped altogether, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room while the storm continued to rage outside.

 

“Hey,” Aramis called softly, when he sensed the other’s attention drifting back to darker places. “It’s okay. We’re safe, you don’t need to run from anything.” It was easier, somehow, to speak the words, sitting in the darkness as they were.

 

“We should probably get you out of these clothes and into something dry. Maybe get you something warm to eat and then to sleep.”, he told the other man, but still he made no move to get up from where he was kneeling on the floor. In a moment, he told himself. He’d just give it another moment.

 

______

 

Athos did not even realize so much as Aramis was holding him, because when their eyes locked, it was as if Athos’ gaze went right through his friend, a blank stare that seemed to have fixed itself on something that wasn’t actually there.. in the room. The Dark blueish-grey eyes absent and hazed.

 

But Aramis’ attempts on comforting and soothing Athos’ state actually bore fruits when the older man stopped shaking and then sat quietly before his friend. His hair was soaking wet and leaked cool drops on his face where Athos left them run down his chin uncaring. He did not cry, never had, not within the five bygone years. Athos was way too shuttered and braced against emotions which would make him feel vulnerable. And there was no sense in breaking loose with no one there to acknowledge. Or maybe he had just lost the ability for release.

 

But as tiny as the vital spark just seemed to flare in him in this moment, Athos appeared to actually listening to Aramis’ words, even though he was not responsive at first. As the other rubbed his face and tried to get him out of his soaked shirt he did little to struggle back nor was he any supportive in the matter. Though there clearly was a reaction to the touch  of warm skin to him.  Athos subtle had leaned into the touch, his eyes becoming more focused on Aramis’ features as he seemed to recognize the friend, take the familiar features in. He let Aramis put a blanket over and round his shoulders which would at least catch the drops falling from his wet strands of hair and he even made an effort to grab the woolen fabric to hold it in place.

 

“Not hungry”, came the sudden incoherent reply belated to Aramis’ words. Athos shifted on his chair and looked at the other, for the first time really back in place and focused on their conversation. “Thank you..”

 

A brief moment passed in which neither of them said a word, awkwardly, then finally Athos leaned back, pulling away from the touch and straightened his back in composure. “I’m done running I fear.. it is in vain, like the thoughts I burdened myself with over all these year. Nothing of it matters or did even matter at all.. “

 

He huffed a dry sound, supposedly a laugh but it was choked. “Blaming myself for a crime that was never carried out because I wasn’t thorough enough and a coward. And in the end it’s no relief to learn that I was so terribly misled.. ”

 

When Aramis stared at him beyond being taken aback and more like downright terrified Athos lowered his gaze, faint-heartedly. “Do you want to know what happened.. five years ago?” Maybe he was finally ready to share, Aramis at least could be sure this wasn’t the alcohol talking in his friend, not anymore..

 

_______

 

When at last it seemed Athos had returned to himself, his gaze no longer unfocused but alert, Aramis let go of his friend. He managed to wrestle his friend out of his wet shirt and cloak and unearthed a blanket to wind around his frame instead.

 

He wasn’t as successful in convincing the other to eat, but the relief of hearing Athos’ formulate a coherent answer more made up for it. Heaving a sigh of relief, Aramis returned to his friends side. “There’s no need to thank me, for you would have done the same for me had our roles been reversed.”, Aramis told his friend. Whatever had brought this on, Athos was clearly still coming to terms with, if the look on his face was any indication. But his words were more coherent now, still it took Aramis a minute to make sense of them.

 

Running from a crime that hadn’t been committed, he thought, but found it made very little sense still. After all, everyone was a murderer in his own mind, or so they said. But Athos had said he hadn’t been thorough enough. It wasn’t for a lack of trying then, whatever he thought his crime was.

 

“I can only speak for the past four years that I have known you, but I was not lying when I told you you are one of the greatest men I know. Even if you will not believe me when I say so.”, he added as an afterthought, a sad smile tugging at his lips at the words.

 

Athos offer to talk, to actually tell Aramis about it was so unexpected Aramis opened his mouth as if to speak several times but no sound made it past his lips.

 

What happened five years ago. That was before. Before Athos had joined the Musketeers and before Aramis had met him. The reason Athos drank himself into a stupor and fought like he had nothing to live for.

 

The selfish part of him, Aramis found, wanted to say yes. To demand that he be told what had caused the rift between them. But this wasn’t about him, Aramis tried to tell himself.  They weren’t on a mission or out on the battlefield, where they relied on Athos to keep his head and making all the right decisions. But they had been only two days ago, and they would be again, and what if next time, things didn’t turn out as well as they had this time.

 

If they were to die for each other, and they would, should the need arise, of that Aramis was certain, didn’t they deserve to carry each other’s secrets as well? It would be so easy, really, to guilt-trip Athos into talking now, and Aramis was furious with himself for even contemplating it.

 

Finally, after the silence had stretched so long as to become uncomfortable, he spoke.

 

“I promised I would listen whenever you are willing to talk. And I honor my promises.”, Aramis answered, trying to be as diplomatic about it as possible. And, a short internal struggle later, added: “It would make me sleep easier at night, knowing that you do not share your burdens alone.”

 

It wasn’t the complete truth, but it wasn’t a lie either.

 

_______

 

And Athos told him, in a slurred voice, raw and leaving no details out. The alcohol had broken down that filter in his mind, that typically prevented words spoken to carelessly. Aramis already knew that he was the Comte de la Fere, or rather used to be, now he was merely a musketeers in the king's duty like every single one of them, sharing the same life and responsibilities.

 

Athos began at the very beginning, told Aramis of his life with Anne of which he had believed to never end back in the day.. and about his brother Thomas who he'd loved dearly and in the end had chosen over his wife when she betrayed his trust and killed his family.

 

He told Aramis the same like he had told d'Artagnan two days ago, but in a calm, bland and almost absent voice like he was quoting the annals of king Louis the XIII.

 

When Athos came to the part where he described the planned execution his voice faltered slightly, though his description was still impersonal like he spoke of someone else. He told Aramis that he did not stay until the end, that he was to weak to bear watching her hanging.. which in the end turned against him, for he was haunted by the illusion of a ghost for the following years which was far more physical as he would ever had known..

 

With this burden on his shoulders Athos had never have a mistress since then. He had suffered from trust issues and a lack of absolute interest in everything back then, besides alcohol and which only begun to mend bit by bit when he got to know Porthos and Aramis and the three of them became friends.

 

So he had learned to trust someone all over again, but only with men, as he prevented the company of women throughout.

 

"I joined the musketeers to give life a meaning in devotion. It helped.. a little. You know the rest of it... It it wasn't for d'Artagnan, I would have burned alive in that house.." And maybe he had wanted it that way, was what Athos did not voice, but Aramis could follow his trail of thoughts..

 

Suddenly, Athos looked up and watched his friend closely.

 

He said nothing of the bounding which was between the two of them and Porthos, a band of trust and faith, which also seemed so obviously one of the main reasons Athos hadn't taken the final step  just years ago and end it with a bullet.

 

Watching Aramis, Athos smiled faintly, his look trailing of until he gazed out of the window, watching the very early sunrise in the East.

 

"I owe all three of you, which is.. why I hate to burden you.. and I pull back.." his eyelid lowered with any moment passing by, exhaustion finally taking its toll.

 

It was then that Athos nearly fell out of the chair which was so kindly given to him, just falling over through his own weight and if it hadn't been Aramis who reacted fast enough he would have dropped to the wooden floor. Sleep would be the most appreciated help for Athos right now in this situation, if not the only, Aramis could see that..

 

_____

 

Aramis listened in silence as Athos spoke. Once more, Athos’ eyes had taken on a faraway look, and he seemed almost to talk about somebody else, for how detached his voice way. Like he was recalling the story of the disappearance of a noble man he had heard somewhere. If it were not for the knowledge of his status as the Comte de la Fere, Aramis might have even believed it. They’d suspected a women in Athos past, had known it once their friend had let slip that she’d died, one evening after one too many bottles of wine.

 

Now he knew her for what she was; Athos’ wife. A wife who had been dearly loved.

 

At one point, Athos voice hitched, emotions warring with each other on his face. Then he took a steadying breath and went on. Aramis found himself perversely glad to find his friend’s eyes empty of tears. He was used to brooding melancholy and violence and silent fury in the face of hardships, could deal with drunken slurs and ramblings and punches, but tears would forever catch him wholly unprepared. Not that anything could have prepared him for what Athos told him next.

 

Athos’ wife a criminal, a brother murdered. And still Athos seemed to care for this woman so much that the memories of her hanging had haunted him all these years. Aramis had fancied himself in love many times, but to love and lose as Athos had, he did not think he would be able to bear that. He knew nothing of having a wife, only of losing a brother. He had almost lost two, in the last days. One to the stroke of an axe and one to a ghost come back for take revenge.

 

They had cut it too close, and Aramis felt so fiercely grateful that for the longest time, words failed him.

 

“Athos ...”, Aramis started, still at a loss for words, but reading the open ending of the sentence for what it was. “I couldn’t imagine what I would have done … what I would do, had I lost either of you. I …”, he whispered, feeling a minute tremor running through him, and couldn’t finish the thought. It wasn’t fair, not after Athos had trusted him with all of this, but he couldn’t voice what haunted him in his darkest nightmares.

 

There was more he wanted to tell his friend, more Athos needed to hear. Like the fact that he was never a burden, none of them were. Even if Aramis cursed them and scream at them and threaten to kill them with his own two hands, it was only because he care too much about them. Because it hurt to know they could not see themselves for what Aramis saw in them, to know they felt themselves undeserving of compassion and forgiveness and happiness.

 

Before he could voice any of these thoughts, Athos eyes closed, and for the second time in one night, Aramis found himself catching his friend before he could fall.

 

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you?”, he asked the slumped form in his arms, but his voice held only soft affection. There was no answer, not that Aramis had expected one from a man half dead by lack of sleep. Still, this would not do.

 

“Athos”, he called, shaking the other man gently. “Stay awake for a moment longer, my friend, help me out just a little. You aren’t Porthos, but you’re still too heavy for me to carry you.” Athos made a noise that sounded like he wanted to be left alone, but, at Aramis’ insistence, he managed to right himself and assist with the few shuffling steps it took to get him to the bed. Where he promptly collapsed and made to curl up to sleep; away from Aramis prying hands.

 

“Oh no, you don’t”, Aramis muttered under his breath, and grabbed his shoulder to stop him before he could track mud and rain water all over the sheets. It took a lot of cursing and coaxing to get the other man out of his boots and remove his soaked breeches, and Aramis was never quite sure if the other was trying to help or make the task as difficult as humanly possible.

 

“You better be very grateful for this in the morning,”, he told the other man when his attempts to towel dry Athos’ hair were met with unhappy noises and uncoordinated hands trying to shove him away, but there was no real heat behind his words.

 

“So grateful, in fact, that you’re going to buy me drinks for a month.”, he added with a snarl, when a flailing hand smacked him right in the forehead. Athos made another pitiful noise, and Aramis gave up his ministrations. He wrestled a comforter over the other man, then joined him on the bed, careful to give Athos as much space as the bed would provide.

 

By the time he had wrestled a comforter over the other man and pushed the hair out of  his friend’s eyes, Athos was eyeing him wearily.

 

“Oh Athos, what am I to do with you?”, Aramis asked quietly, watching his friend sleep for a few long moments. Then, in the quiet after the emotional storm and with the sun just beginning to rise over the streets of Paris, he joined the other man on the bed.

 

______

 

Aramis could be quite certain Athos were thankful if he ever noticed the efforts of making it comfortable for him.  The man groaned, tucking in the warm blanket for it was chilly being just in his underpants.

 

He did not bother so much as shifting over when Aramis claimed his half of the bed for himself. Athos was laying on his side, coiled up and pretty much unable to move from the position he had slumped down the bed.

 

Aramis on his back beside him, seemingly cautious to not let them touch each other more than necessary especially around the legs. It was to take as a gesture of politeness, leaving both of them enough space to themselves in the narrow bed.

 

Athos' eyes stayed open for a longer while, though even if heavy-lidded, the body heat making him rather drowsy.. but not in a bad way. He was watching Aramis, taking his profile in and there was no way of telling if the other had fallen asleep already with his eyes closed or were just resting..  then suddenly Athos' voice came close to the other's ear, calm and quiet.

 

"D'you know you're pretty..?" The dark eyes were ghosting over the musketeer's face almost affectionate - still a distinctive slur to Athos' words. He would probably later not remember one single event of that night... maybe it was for the better.   

 

“I never doubted my good looks, but I’m glad you finally admitted it too.”, Aramis told the other man mockingly, but not without affection. Sure, he’d never been called pretty before, well, outside of Porthos’ gentle mocking. And a few rather unsavory comments on his appearance, insults to his heritage and suggestions what he should rather be doing with his mouth on that mission in Calais that he’d rather never think about ever again.

 

But Athos? Commenting on his looks? It almost made him want to laugh, the thought was so absurd.

 

“You’re drunk, Athos.” he told the other man. “Go to sleep.”

 

"There was a time when I wished I'd have a chance with you..."

 

It was only a brief choice of words and instead of carrying on with his remark, he closed his eyes already half asleep. "Possibly..."

The next was soft snoring coming from the man, his features relaxed and open for one of the very rare occasions.

 

Aramis was about to chalk the unusual compliment up to too much wine and turn back around to make another attempt at sleep when Athos’ next words hit him with the force of a blow.

 

“You … me. What?”, Aramis whispered, all but deaf to everything but the blood rushing in his ears and the feeling. He felt his own heart racing below his ribs, but couldn’t fathom why it would. Athos couldn’t actually mean that he thought of Aramis … the other was drunk, and dark memories of his past life would still be haunting him. Maybe he was talking to someone that was not really here. Aramis had no doubt Athos wife had been pretty ... was pretty. She would certainly fit the description better than Aramis did.

 

“Athos, what do you mean, have a chance ...?”, he asked, only to be answered by soft snores.

 

 “Now I know you’re mocking me.”, Aramis told his sleeping companion, with a small laugh that had a hysterical edge to it. He had to be, Aramis thought, but didn’t sound convinced even to his own ears. This was Athos, after all, a man who rarely joked. Especially about matters as serious as this. “You’re drunk.”, he repeated, meaning ‘You don’t know what you’re saying’ and ‘You won’t even remember this in the morning’ and somewhere deep in his chest, ‘Why would you tell me these things only to not remember them.’

 

Athos was as celibate as they came. Yes, there had been a wife once. But that had been over five years ago and had, obviously, involved the holy ceremonies of marriage. And, as he had learned, ended very badly. Besides, for all the time Aramis had known him, and despite Porhos’ and his teasing, he simply couldn’t picture Athos in any relationship that went further than friendship and mutual admiration.

 

It had to have been a mistake, Aramis thought, but couldn’t keep his mind from questioning. Despite the weariness clouding at the edges of his mind, sleep was a long time coming.

 

 ~*~


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning found them awkwardly twisted around the bedsheets and the woolen blanket, Athos still stuck to his side, though he was pressed firmly to Aramis's backside with his front, fingers clawed into the down pillow beneath his head. Maybe he had been searching the warmth of the body in front of him during the night..

And still so, Athos woke only reluctantly, taking a deep breath and turning it into a sigh, as the familiar smell of his friend coming from the linen fabric was pleasant. It made him groan lazly, also because of the gnawing headache and curl up a bit more, stretching his legs into Aramis' space.

Though the most disturbing thing about this scene probably might have been the warm bulge pressing into the small of Aramis' back rather casually and without further notice of Athos, until he was more alert. 

Even though it was considerably later than usual, Aramis was slow to wake. Burying his face in his pillow, he settled back into the sheets with a small, sleepy noise, happy in the knowledge his presence wasn’t required anywhere in the immediate future. There was a warmth along his back that did wonders for his bruised shoulders and sore muscles and Aramis unconsciously moved closer to its source. Until he woke enough to recognize the form and texture of another body pressed to his and to feel warm breath tickling the back his neck.

It took Aramis a confused moment to remember who he was sharing a bed with, and half a breath longer to realize that his companion was not unaffected by their proximity and promptly froze.

He wasn’t generally all that opposed to situations such as this, if the company and mood was right. And didn’t involve one of his truest friends that lived like a monk, drank like a fish and carried around enough emotional baggage for three lifetimes. Who might or might not have made a pass of dubious credibility at Aramis. Which he probably did not even remember.

This, Aramis decided, was going to be decidedly awkward. 

 

The moment Athos fully awake and regained his consciousness, he turned to his back with a groan and squinting his eyes a few times as he waited for the low pounding behind his forehead to subside eventually. He would need the usual bucket full of  ice cold water to clear his head later, not an easy thing to come to in summer. But just something cool and refreshing would do, probably.

He was not exactly unfamiliar to the slightly throbbing sensation down there in the morning, especially if he had had too much wine the previous evening. But usually he threatened it as a mere obstacle which was to solve with a few lazy strokes.

The thing which wasn't so usual at all here was the company in his bed.. he prefered to sleep alone, not matter the circumstances.  But wait, this was not his bed. In fact.. he recognized the dark curly strands on the pillow and the lean figure beside him and hold his breath in a moment of terrified recognition.

What.. hell, WHAT had happened last night? His memory was all but a blurry mess and tended to play tricks on him as a nasty surprise to the alcohol overdose..

Somehow he had gotten over to Aramis' lodgings apparently, and somehow he'd found himself in the other's bed, only dressed in his underpants.

Damn it, drinking sure was a vicious thing. It helped to ease the troubled mind at times of utmost need, but it's price was sometimes too great to repay..  Right in this moment Athos would have given anything for a clear memory, he needed to know what he had to brace himself against..

Athos decided, whatever had brought them together in this circumstance, it had to be his fault. Maybe he had fainted in the tavern or on the dark streets and Aramis had dragged him the whole way here to his lodging because he wasn't to be left alone, the drunkard he was.

There was shame, but also anger against himself and finally resignation as Athos pushed himself up with a decided movement, and was rewarded with a painfully sharp stroke to his temple.

He did not look back at Aramis as he carefully stood up and hauled himself to the heap on the nearby chair which looked mostly like his scattered and drenched clothes. It was more than uncomfortable to slip into the still damp and also dirty shirt and breeches but Athos said not a single word, his gaze sticking shyly to just himself and not once finding the bed again.

He felt in no mood to talk or face things, not at all..

 

Aramis could tell the exact moment Athos went from sleep muddled but awake to fully conscious as soon as he heard the sharp intake of breath and felt Athos go still beside him. Aramis, torn between turning around and catching a few more minutes of sleep, paid no more attention to his friend. After all, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t share a room, or even a bed, between the three of them before. And given the fact that they were all healthy men, waking to someone’s  was not an unheard of occurrence either.

Even if it did not usually involve Athos.

Or Athos trying to sneak out of bed and into his clothes. Aramis was puzzled for all of two seconds before their conversation from the night before came back to him in almost vivid detail. Athos had told him he’d hoped to have a chance with Aramis. Only Aramis didn’t really believed the other man, or hadn’t believed him, anyway. Because Athos had been drinking, and mourning his dead wife that wasn’t actually dead and told Aramis he didn’t want to be a burden and ...

‘Oh.’, Aramis thought with sudden clarity, realization settling in. When he turned around, Athos was standing with his back to Aramis and was struggling to put on his still wet shirt, not bothering with laces or buttons. He was clearly in a hurry then.

“You were being serious.”, Aramis said, before he could stop himself.  It was a statement, not a question, though disbelief was clouding Aramis’ voice. Athos stopped in his movements almost guiltily, as if caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

The look Athos gave Aramis when he turned around was confused, and slightly terrified.

‘Right’, Aramis thought, remembering Athos’ drunken state from the night before. ‘He probably had no clue what I’m talking about.’ And judging from the grim look of determination on his face, Athos had absolutely no intention to find out. Or to stay a moment longer than he absolutely had to.

For several silent moments, they stared at each other across the room. 

Athos straightened his clothing and himself as good as he good, finding his composure as much as he could muster, before he finally had lifted his head and looked over to Aramis. "... I think I should be going. Thanks for.. your help."

Aramis’ look went from slightly confused to incredulous, which was, apparently, not reassuring at all. And before Aramis could formulate a coherent thought, Athos was already halfway out the door.

 “What? Athos, wait! What are you doing?”, Aramis called, suddenly worried. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, but knew with certainty that Athos’ leaving now would make the whole situation explicitly worse. the knowledge spurred him into action, and Aramis   .

 The flare of pain shooting up his back at the sudden movement made his his eyes water with its ferocity and had Aramis sinking back into the sheets with a wince.

 Cursing silently, he concluded that he should have just faked being asleep.

 

_______

 

Athos all but fled his friend's lodging. For one thing because he felt his memory becoming more and more aware of what had happened last night - which left him in horror and his face burning up slowly - and the second led him straight away behind the house and stumbling into the dirty yard where he threw up all over the wet junks of trash scattered around.

He barely reacted this strong to an overdose of liquor, on occasions yes, but right now he was feeling so sick in the stomach, it just had to clear itself from everything he'd been holding down.

Once he was done, Athos straightened himself with a groan and took several mouths full of water from a nearby rain barrel. It was not stale but rather fresh from last night's thunderstorm and it helped get rid of the disgustingly foul taste in his mouth.

Yea damn, he remembered now... not in detail but still he could recite the main flow of events from last night. What, by the regal king and queen had he told Aramis. Not ever, not even legally insane from drinking too much he was ever allowed to let himself break open like this and make an utter fool of himself. And most of all, Aramis must have thought him mad for making such an.. inappropriate confession.

Athos pressed his lips to a thin line, gazing up to the windows of the inn, slowly making his way back to the main road. He could only hope that Aramis would think nothing of it, just blame it to the alcohol and - most important - don't hold a grudge against him for making fun of his best friend.

Which, he wasn't. Had not.

Athos groaned again, rubbing his temple, as he realized his drunken self had done nothing but state the truth, possibly hidden and stored away in his consciousness for far too long.

Athos could recall the first time he had come to make Porthos' and several time later Aramis acquaintances. He had liked the slightly younger man from first looks. He liked dark hair, and a pretty face .. and this elusively cocky attitude which drew all the attention towards it..

Athos had mostly ignored it, to the point where he had successfully managed to suppress his feelings and also every thought leading into certain directions.

Now it was welling up again, was represent and Athos did not know how to deal with it.. Aramis had grown him a good friend, unlike like they were at the beginning, which in a way, made matters even worse.

But for now, he decided, there was nothing else to do than drag himself home, get something edible into his stomach and at some point meet with Aramis, acting like nothing had happened, so they could move on as close as they had been before.. He cursed the awkwardness.

Some time later Athos reached his own lodging and stripped off the wet and dirty clothes, then sat down his bed with a jar of water and a dry loaf of bread. Breakfast..

The sight of his own bed made him remember last night more vividly.. the friend's distinctive fragrant coming from the linen sheets and causing that warm and calming sensation in his innards.

There was probably duty today, and they had to keep an eye on Porthos' for he would get grumpier by the day.. but overall Athos wished for a calmer day just to himself.

 

________

 

Athos was avoiding him.

Aramis was not sure if he was annoyed or relieved at the prospect. A rather prominent part of him wanted to confront Athos and find out if his words had been the truth. The other reminded him that Athos did probably not remember anything of what had happened and was simply uncomfortable with having imposed himself on his friend.  

Besides, Aramis wasn’t even sure what his own feelings on the matter were.

There was no doubt that he admired Athos - his skill with a blade, his calm and level nature, his penchant for tactical thinking and the devotion and loyalty to his friends. But that was part of the problem, really. Athos had been his friend for years. And up until a few nights ago, there had never been any indication of there being more than friendship between them. Not that Aramis remembered anyway. Needless to say, he found it a little difficult to wrap his head around the concept of Athos being intimate with anyone. Especially Aramis himself.

Not that Aramis didn’t find the other man attractive. Quite the opposite, in fact.

But Aramis has been attracted to a lot of people, and it was in his nature to pursue whoever had caught his fancy, regardless of gender. But attraction was a fickle thing and often Aramis found his attraction and interest waning quickly. Which was not an option if he were to even think about starting anything with Athos. There was their bond of friendship to think of, and in spite of Aramis’ reputation as a thoughtful lover, he knew Athos deserved better than a tumble in the sheets.

Not that it mattered now. Athos had been avoiding any mention of what had transpired even when Aramis did manage to corner him long enough to exchange words. Which lead back to the question of whether Athos didn’t remember or was simply unwilling to acknowledge what had happened.

Whatever the case, it was slowly but surely driving Aramis mad. By the end of the week the tension between them was so palpable that even Porthos, who never meddled if it could be helped, was shooting Aramis worried looks. Aramis, feeling petulant, resolutely avoided meeting Porthos questioning gaze. For once, this wasn’t his doing.

Of course, this didn’t stop the tall man from pulling Aramis aside one evening with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“This isn’t still about that mission, is it?”, Porthos asked, eyes unusually serious. “Because I swear I’ve told you a hundred times now that I’m completely fine. See.”, he prompted, rotating his shoulder in demonstration. “I even had a nice chat with Athos, so there. No hard feelings at all.”

“It’s not about that, no.”, Aramis told the other with a sigh. “I’m glad to hear your shoulder is healing so well, my friend.”, he added, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re not actually angry about that other thing, are you?”, Porthos asked, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “That he never told us about his past until now, I mean.”

Athos had told Porthos too, then. If Aramis were a gambling man, he would have bet money on Porthos’ version not containing anything that might or might not be sudden confessions of love, though.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Athos’ past, either. It’s nothing, really.”, he tells Porthos, and when the other man only rolled his eyes, he added: “It’s simply that I’ve been lacking a bit of romance lately, what with me being stuck with the three of you.”

It was enough to distract Porthos, who laughed and left him with a friendly pat on his back that had Aramis trying to hide a wince of pain. Well, he hadn’t been lying, except for the part where being stuck with Athos might actually resolve some of his bad mood. Or make it worse.

It was almost a relief when they were called to Treville’s office and presented with a task only a day later. Aramis isn’t sure if that’s because now Athos can no longer avoid him or because of the prospect of dishing out some violence.

 

_______

 

Treville had commissioned them with a task that would require a three day's ride into the far south-west of France in the region of Labourd, to a smaller village near the French-Spanish border, which was famous for providing the realm with several goods such as food supplies, wood and iron and also it was one of the most important sources of gunpowder for the state.

Now it appeared that something was interrupting the delivery chain and one of the king's whistleblowers had led them to the believe that the valuable black powder was going somewhere else.. most likely into the Spanish territory.

The case was an evidently crucial one to resolve as the king's captain of the guard assigned his three best man - plus this young man as an apprentice of some sort, who had proven himself quite handy over several months now - to the issue.

Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan left Paris on an early morning on five horses of which one was serving as packhorse for their provisions. They would ride through some towns on their way south, but soon there would be only so much as woods and grasslands and raw nature with not a single human soul around. So they would be camping in the open, sleep by the fire and keep a straight budget with their supplies. Else they would have to go hunting or use what was left of their skills as rangers from their time of base training.

D'Artagnan was literally bouncing with anticipation, the thrill letting him urge his horse to ride on their front, closely followed by Athos who kept a steady pace, hat pulled narrow into his face to shield his eyes from the sun as which they had in their backs most of the time glady, but with sunfall the blazing ball came round for them, shining on their sides and the ground beneath their feet.

Still, Athos spoke accordingly little but then again it wasn't an unusual thing. When he spoke his voice was low and steady as it always was, with the light touch of monotony levelness. if anything he seemed collected and acted, as nothing out of the ordinary had happened the previous last days. It was his way of dealing with things, Aramis would be a fool to think otherwise after all these years they'd know each other. He just had any troubling matter locked away in his mind, for not letting it interfere with his actions or thoughts.

Even as he was adressed casually by Porthos or d'Artagnan - or even Aramis himself - he gave a reply without hesitation. Everything seemed normal, everything seemed in order.. except for Aramis' brooding. If Athos notices, the didn't give the other one opening for a distinctive remark just once. Also it would be totally rubbish to start anything in front of Porthos and d'Artagnan. Also Porthos was keeping them busy with the casual little groan, holding his shoulder but shooting each and every one of them a fierce look the they turned to him, opening their mouths to say anything to it.

Soon d'Artagnan had got tired of the rushing, as the houses fell back behind them and grasslands and fields were the most common sight around. He fell back beside Athos and involved him into some kind of small talk which only d'Artagnan managed to keep up with the oldest of them for some reason. It was youth and recklessness, they were sure.

The downside to traveling together for a prolonged amount of time, Aramis found, was that there was no way to talk to Athos in private. At least not when the man in question was as close lipped as ever and stuck close to d’Artagnan throughout the day. Aramis, in turn, spent most of the ride brooding silently.

To make matters worse, Porthos was giving him worried looks again. So far, the big musketeers had refrained from openly asking any questions though. Aramis would have given him credit for his discretion, if it weren’t for the fact that they’d only arrived at this truce because Aramis made no mention of Porthos’ wound. Which, going by the small sounds of discomfort the other was not hiding nearly as well as he thought he was, was still far from healed.

Aramis had voted for Porthos to sit this mission out and rest instead, but, as usual when it came to such discussions, Porthos had refused to hear any of it, insisting that he was fine. And when there had be no support from either d’Artagnan nor Athos, Aramis had conceded the point.

Aramis hoped rather vindictively that Porthos shoulder caused him a lot of discomfort, just so the other might learn to take his own health more serious. And maybe, just maybe, listen to Aramis when it came to medical matters. Besides, they were not too far from Paris yet not to be able to sent the other man back, should his condition worsen.

At least Aramis own back wasn’t quite as bad as it had been a few days ago.

When the day spent on horseback drew to an end, they had left all signs of civilization behind them. But it had been warm and sunny, so when Athos picked a spot to rest, the prospect of sleeping under the open sky did not worry the small group overly much.

Then the sun was about to disappear at the horizon and there was nothing around them except grass fields and some sparsely rocks, Athos decided they would make camp under a nearby three.

Porthos groaned as he slid out of the saddle, slumping down to the ground with a muffled sound while d'Artagnan jumped out of his saddle light-footed. Athos credited them both with a soft tuck at his lip before he looked around.

"D'Artagnan can I ask you to collect some firewood around, we'll set up camp and prepare the rest. Oh and don't go too far, this in unknown territory."

With a nod and some ridiculously amount of vigour left, the young man dashed off and left the three men behind to take care of the horses and gather their supplies from the packed one.

"Right, Porthos take it easy with your shoulder, can you prepare dinner? Aramis would you please mind the horses, I'm sure there was a spring of water somewhere around.. it heard it."

He only gave them a short look over once, before minding his own feet and got their bedrolls from the back of the horses, laying them out around a pile of small rocks which would make the perfect place to set up a small fire. 

Aramis handed their cooking utensils to Porthos and then busied himself with unsaddling the horses. The stream Athos had heard was easily located, and Aramis enjoyed a moment of solitude while their steeds drank. Back in camp, d’Artagnan and Porthos were busy trying to get a fire going, while Athos kept a watchful eye. Aramis felt a smile tugging at his lips at the sight. He hobbled their horses near the tree-line, a few steps away from their camp. And, after he had distributed feed bags filled with barely, started rubbing them down from the days ride. He spent a few extra minutes with his own mare, running his hands through her mane to loosen the worst tangles, talking softly to the horse.

Aramis was interrupted in his task by the sound of footsteps, and when he turned he found Porthos only a few feet away. It had become something of a game between the two of them, with Porthos trying to sneak up on him and Aramis pretending he didn’t notice. However, the look on the other man’s face was lacking it’s usual amused smile that would have been part of their spiel.

“You look troubled.”, Aramis said by way of greeting, already dreading the direction this conversation was likely to take.

“You’ve not been yourself, these last few days.”, Porthos answered, watching Aramis closely. “And don’t say it’s the lack of company. We’ve been perfectly fine company before, so I don’t see why we wouldn’t be now.”, he added, before Aramis could wave him off. “We worry about you, you know.”

At Aramis prompting raise of an eyebrow, Porthos narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms defensively.

“Okay, I worry”, he amended, slightly disgruntled. “But honestly, you’ve hardly said five words all day. It’s not like you at all. You’re worse than Athos.”

“You do realize I’m not some delicate flower in need of defending, do you?”, Aramis joked, but grew serious again when there was no answering smile from Porthos. “I can take care of myself, I really can. Besides, I don’t think we need more awkward tiptoeing around each other between the four of us right now.”

“So this does have something to do with Athos”, Porthos concluded smugly, and Aramis hid his face in his mare’s mane with a groan. The horse merely turned its head and nuzzled at Aramis’ hip for the extra treats he sometimes kept in his pockets.

“Not the point, Porthos. So not the point.”, Aramis answered, feeling resigned. “Athos might be involved in this, if you must know. But it’s not my place to say anything. Besides, mostly this is just me being … you know, being myself.” The explanation seemed vague and lacking even to himself, but Porthos seemed to accept it just the same.

“Having settled that, was there any other point in you coming to harass me?”, Aramis asked, but let himself slump against the other man’s shoulder - the good one - to take the sting out of his words.

“Yes, actually. Dinner’s ready. I thought you might want to join us before our Gascon eats all of it by himself.”, Porthos replied, still a bit wary of Aramis’ sudden brooding nature but already in better spirits. Steering Aramis back towards camp and their two companies already sat by the fire.

“I have retrieved our missing man,” he announced to everyone at large, and Aramis rolled his eyes but settled down next to his friend without complaint.

“And here I thought you’d be glad to be rid of me. Then again, I do know how you love all the attention I pay to your wounds.”, Aramis told Porthos. Across the fire, d’Artagnan was trying to hide a smirk. “Speaking of which, off with the shirt, if you please.”, Aramis added with a flourish of his hand.

This time, it was Porthos’ turn to groan.

 

_______

 

Athos watched his two closest friends over the swaying fire, eating his stew out of a bowl quietly. His eyes were resting on Aramis' skillful fingers as the other tended to Porthos' wound. He also let his gaze wander over Porthos' shoulders and along the stocky upper arms for a moment, until it came to lay on Aramis' hands again.. He seemed a bit lost to the world in this moment, absorbed in his thought and he didn't notice d'Artagnan watching him out of the corner of his eyes, with a grin.

He also observed Aramis' practised handholds around Porthos' sore shoulder while the man gave the casual hiss to the other's touch, but he wasn't as intrigued by it as Athos seemed.

So when he started to feel neglected for some time being he turned to all three of them, but foremost Athos, chewing extensively on his bite of dried meat.  "So what is this place we're going? I am from around these parts of France, maybe I can help out..? ", he tried to start a conversation that wasn't about Porthos' acting like a sissy. One could see Athos snap back into the present as he blinked, forcing his eyes to part from the sight of his friends as he turned his head to the youngest instead. "We are heading to a city called Larrun-Licharre, its in the territory of Labourd, which is keeping the realms of France and Spain apart.. you should at least know that.”

D'Artagnan shrugged, taking another bite, eyes fixed on Athos. "And the people there... ?"

"Most are loyal to the king of france, King Louis the XIII, though its one place known for its troubles with rebellions and riots on every occasion", Athos continued, watching Aramis again without even so much as noticing it really. His voice trailed off. ".... Labourd is important to the kingdom as we are getting a big load of valuable goods from the states combined there. When ever there is stagnation in the flow, our troops have to check on the situation.. not always to find it quietly solved, if you know what I mean."

Suddenly it was Porthos' voice echoing back to them over the crackling fire. "As much as now you haven't spoken all day, Athos!" Maybe he was fed up with his friends' bullshit and wanted to make them talk in a normal fashion again. A snort laughter followed, though it didn't help much. Pointing Athos to the obvious was surely a way of trying it, but the older doesn't seem to take it so indulgent though.

"If you want me talking, you should have bought some bottles of acceptable wine with you.. " He already felt something missing, but bringing bottles of wine with them would not been only heavy but also pretty inconsiderate for they needed the space for vitals supplies of food and water.

Athos made it rather clear that that there was no use picking up the subject even further as he rose and put his empty bowl down. "We should call it an early night..." He threw a look into the small round before he turned in direction of some sparsely trees at some distance. He had to relieve himself and maybe just have a moment to himself. Being on field trips with his comrades left little time for needs such as this. 

_________

 

Athos stood and made his way towards the thicket of trees.

Aramis followed his form with contemplating eyes, wondering if this was the chance he had been hoping for.

He could either incur Athos’ wrath by interrupting the man's solitude or remain where he was and spent another day brooding in silence. Given that they were already avoiding each other, notwithstanding stiltedly polite conversation, there wasn’t that much of a choice, really. Besides, who knew when Aramis might next get the chance to actually catch the other in private.

His mind made up, Aramis stood and, waving away his friends’ questioning looks, followed Athos into the cover of the trees. Away from the light provided by their fire and the moon above, it took Aramis’ eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Once they had, it was easy enough to spot Athos’ proud form among the underbrush. Aramis took care not to silence the sound of his approaching footsteps. It wouldn’t exactly help his quest for answers if Athos mistook Aramis for a robber and shot him where he stood. Not that the man was known for being impulsive.

Unless it involved alcohol and confessions, Aramis thought bleakly, and called out to his friend.

“Athos, do you have a moment?”, he asked, ignoring what could only be described as a look of dread on the other man’s face. “I think there is something we need to talk about.”

 

________

 

Athos knew it was Aramis the moment he heard the footsteps, distinguished them from Porthos' heavier trod and the slightly swifter pace that was young d'Artagnan. He finished his business, straightening his clothing and closed his eyes for the short moment of a sigh, before he turned to him.

Aramis was standing behind him, indecisive, hoovering, he was waiting apparently for Athos to make a move. And there was no evading the situation any further, Athos reckoned, either he'd wished for or have it right here that probably he was damned and had broken something that wasn't to be patched together easily again..

"Yes I assume there is", he gave back and made the few steps forward until he stood before the other on one arm's length apart. It was now that for the past couple of days Athos really looked Aramis in the face properly, searching his eyes. "Before you say anything, believe me that I understand I made a mistake, I was...devastated the night and in shame for myself."

Searching for the right words Athos' eyes fluttered over the other's features..as they came to a halt briefly on Aramis' lips before raising to the dark brown eyes again.

"If it is any consolation I can make you the promise here and now that it won't happen again."

 

_______

 

This was not how Aramis had envision their talk to go.

Athos looked almost pained when he spoke, but his words were evasive and Aramis couldn’t shake the feeling they were talking about different things entirely. Athos’ confession had never been the crux of the matter, at least not to Aramis. But it seemed Athos had a different opinion entirely.

“What? I … no. Athos, I’m grateful you trusted me with the story of your past.“, he replied hastily. “Please don’t think I wouldn’t be, no matter what day or hour. There is no need for shame or promises.”

Maybe, Aramis realized, he should have thought this through before acting and demanding answers to questions he did not know how to ask. Maybe this had all been a misunderstanding on his part after all. Aramis cursed silently, damning Athos for his evasiveness and self-flagellation and himself for making things even more awkward between them.

“It seems I’ve been terrible at showing how much I appreciate your trust and even worse company. Forgive me my shortcomings.”, Aramis told Athos, and, breaching the gap between them, reached for his friend’s hands.

If this had indeed been a misunderstanding, then he owed it to Athos and their friendship to let it go and fix this. The feeling of disappointment he swept through him at the thought was so unexpected it left Aramis momentarily breathless.

 

______

 

Athos looked down at their hands as Aramis took his wrist in a firm and warm grip full of confidence. It was a friendly gesture and aiming to give assurance, but still Athos carefully shifted his arm, as he returned the gesture, to shift Aramis' fingertips from this pulse before he gave the warm hand a gentle squeeze. He did not flinch, though there was a denotable flicker in his eyes... and then the shadow of a smile tugging at the older man's lips.

"Nothing to forgive there, Aramis... I guess it just has come down overwhelming for both of us in a kind of way." He tightened his grip firmly, actually forcing himself to smile properly this time, before he let go and made a step towards their camp, putting a hand on Aramis' shoulder for a moment of not noticeably duration. His head being turned to the other as Athos gave him one last lookover.

"Maybe the past can rest now, and memories be forgotten, for the peace of our minds..."

Probably not everything was cleared this night but it left them an opening to continue without the stinging sensation down their intestines, which would hinder them on this important mission. First rule captain Treville always told the new recruits: always keep your head below the clouds and never make it into something personal…

When they got back to the camp, Porthos was chatting with d'Artagnan across the fire, snorting with laughter and the smiles which greeted both of them did a great deal persuading Athos that everything was as it had to be. At least for the moment.

The following days were a palpably lighter ride for all of them, they settled in some kind of a routine then, when it came to looking for water, setting up the camp or checking for directions on their map. They even gave themselves to some light banter, as d'Artagnan tried to scout for them and ended up holding the map upside down and Aramis giving him a soothing pat on the back which made the boy snap. Though, by late afternoon of the third day they had finally crossed the border to Labourd territory and Athos was more than fairly relieved to likely spend the night in a decent bed. Porthos shifted on his horse uncomfortably, demanding a cool bath because he was 'slithering in his boots and undergear'.

Only issue was the not so warm welcome which they were greeted with in the capital that evening…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'd like to apologize in advance for any geographical mistakes, I'm rather lousy at anthing that has a farer range than 300km around my house ;) and got the sense of direction of a toast, aka not really common with the states and such in France in the 1630ties .  
> If you happen be an expert and take offence on the places we've choosen here, please let us know ~
> 
> \- Flauschvieh (Athos' player)


	5. Chapter 5

All their plans of a well-earned rest came to an abrupt end, as soon as they came to the first small grouping of homes that made up Larrun.

Having expected, if not a warm welcome, then at least the courtesy of a warm meal and bed, they were instead met with silence and wary looks.

“These people don’t seem all that happy to see us …”, d’Artagnan pointed out in a low voice. “I thought you said they are loyal to France and its king.”

“As much as any farmer living in the middle of nowhere can be, I guess”, Porthos told the young man, the look on his face suddenly solemn. ”It’s not like there’s all that much time to worry about a king when you’re trying to put food on the table.”

“They might simply think us smugglers”, Aramis quipped, drawing a laugh out of Porthos and an eyeroll from Athos.

“Or, worse yet, here to arrest smugglers. Besides, we’re armed strangers that don’t speak their language, it’s not the smartest move to make our way into their hearts, really.”,

They dismounted in front of the town’s inn, where they were met by a stable hand. While the other three negotiated over coins, Aramis turned toward the proprietress of the inn that had appeared at the sound of their voices. Aramis turned to her with a smile, and found it returned when he greeted her in her native tongue.

He got them room and board, including bathwater if they so wished, learned that several unknown men had made their way through the town and their host’s name was Maia. And by the time his three friends joined him, their conversation of moved on to other topics.

The inn keeper mustered the three newcomers as they stopped at Aramis' side, and, switching to French, offered to show them their rooms.

"But you just said you don't speak their language," d'Artagnan exclaimed in a whisper at the same time Porthos muttered "You know, sometimes I really hate you."

"Clearly, no one but Athos appreciates my getting us rooms and information relevant to our mission at the same time," Aramis sighed, shooting their leader an amused look.

Not that Athos seemed particularly impressed with any of their antics.

\---------

Athos feigned a sympathetic smile and gave Aramis a tapping on the shoulder. "You clearly deserve the credit from our backsites to rest in a proper bed tonight." Saying that, he stepped ahead of the others, climbing up the narrow staircase to the first floor.  
This really was something different to the lodging they were used to in Paris, of course. This was the countryside and they had to take what's offered.

But Athos wasn't one to fuss as long as it met the basic requirements: a bed, a window, maybe a table and some place where one could get access to some clean water.

When they had settled with the arrangement of the rooms, Athos granted them one hour or so to freshen up a bit, arrange their equipment or basically just rest before he gathered them around in the small backyard of their accommodation.  
When Athos lifted his gaze, he looked into faces of men whom the exertions were visibly written in the face, but still had faith in their leader.

Athos was fairly exhausted himself and couldn't blame his friends really.  
It softened Athos' mood to a sympathetic expression that was showing with his eyes rather than an actual smile on his lips.

"Gentlemen, I know you're all tired, but this is maybe our best chance. Most illegal activities are set to proceed at night and with us just having arrived here, there is a good chance the men of question might have not noticed us yet. "

They decided to part into two groups and check around the local environment, especially the storages of black-powder and iron and also the local tavern which seemed to be a gathering point for all sorts of figures around the city.

Athos took d'Artagnan with him and announced they would take car of the storehouses, which left Aramis paired up with Porthos'.  
Athos looked both his friends over closely, holding Aramis' gaze for a moment and then taking Porthos' constitution in.

"I want you two to blend in with the locals and try to get some information out of them in the tavern, Aramis we can make good use of your native tongue here, try to gain their trust..." Athos lifted an eyebrow suggestively "and don't let Porthos get into trouble."

Said one snorted amusedly. "You know what I wanna do when this job is done? Ass-dive into that lake over there by the bridge, its calling me the moment I laid eyes on it through the window in my room. Shining beauty.."  
To this, Porthos got an appraising glance from their leader, before Athos shrugged lightly and then turned to the youngest "Fair enough, make sure to not get any more holes into you then."

When Athos left the place, with d'Artagnan following close behind, Athos caught himself for a moment wishing he could join Aramis in the tavern.. beyond all reason. For once bringing him close to any bottle of alcohol wasn't exactly that good idea and secondly Porthos and d'Artagnan were not what he'd considered a good pairing as it was with Porthos' state and d'Artagnans dashing head over heels..

But watching Aramis blend in with folks and talking spanish... happend to have rather the appeal to Athos. As he told himself, it was just intrigued fascination for the foreign tongue, but actually he likeed watching Aramis talk.

\------

“Well, looks like it’s just the two of us then”, Aramis said a moment later with a smirk to Porthos, once Athos and d’Artagnan had disappeared from sight.  
The tavern in question, he had learned upon further inquiry, was located right off of the town’s market square, which made it an ideal place to start asking questions. They might catch some of the people working the market, who were always a good source for information and would be able to find any other watering holes there might be from there. If they were to blend in, however ….

“We should probably lose these though …”, Aramis added, indicating their pauldrons. Porthos seemed put off by the mere idea, fingering the leather-garment with the distinct fleur de lis mark reluctantly.  
Knowing how hard the tall man had worked to earn the mark of the musketeers, Aramis couldn’t really blame him.

“I guess it can’t be helped”, Porthos finally answered. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. And there won’t even be any real drinking to make up for it.”

“No one said you had to like it”, Aramis told the other, touching his arm in understanding and steering them back in the direction of their rooms. “It might save your life though, if whatever men we are looking for are dangerous and willing to kill. That has to count for something.”

Having rid themselves of anything that might give away their status and mission, Porthos and Aramis soon found themselves occupying a table in the local tavern.

The had come up with a cover story about being muscle for hire on their way to the coast after having finished their last job, should they be asked. It also gave them an excuse to spend some money and be merry, to loosen some tongues with wine and friendly banter.

Despite the downside of not being able to keep an eye on Athos and d’Artagnan, this job had practically been made for them.  
For while Athos usually exuded an aura that made people keep their distance, Porthos and he had no such qualms. And before long, they had made the acquaintance of what seemed like half of the regular crowd of the place.  
So far, they hadn’t heard anything suspicious or out of the ordinary, though there were some patrons that resolutely kept to themselves.

Loath as he was to admit it, it seemed they’d have to go with Plan B, Aramis decided with a sigh and a look in Porthos direction. Time to make use of Porthos love for a game of cards. The prospect of winning some money drew in even the most careful of men. Aramis had only to make sure no one caught Porthos’ rather atrocious attempts at cheating and it would be smooth sailing.

\------- 

Meanwhile, Athos and d'Artagnan were sneaking around the abandoned warehouse, carefully putting one step before the other, leaning close to the walls and having their guns ready pressed against their shoulders. At least it looked abandoned with not a single soul in sight, which was strange enough given the fact that the village's whole stocks were stored here.

As the two men reached the massive two-door entrance, Athos tried to hoist the wooden bar with his shoulder, grunting under the effort and shooting d'Artagnan a pointed look to lend him a hand already.  
D'Artagnan sprung, belated, and with combined strength they managed to lift the bar and let it drop with a heavy thud into the mud.

Athos gave d’Artagnan a raised eyberow, before he went inside first, slowly, giving his eyes time to get accustomed to the pitch dark.  
When he felt the younger pushing him from behind, Athos gave an annoyed sigh. "Careful!"

The hall was large and stocked up to the ceiling, barrels and containers and heavy looking wooden chests with wheels on them drew the men's attention. "This is quite the hoard", Athos whispered to wide-eyed d'Artagnan who seemed dumb-struck with their discovery.  
This stuff must have been worth a fortune... at least considered for the farmers which lived around here.

Athos glanced through the hall, looking for the distinctive form of black powder barrels which also had to be stored somewhere around here.. if they hadn't been too late and the smugglers were one step ahead of the king's Musketeers already.

"D'Artagnan, can you stand guard while I examine the other side of the hall? It's too dark to get a decent look..”  
The young man nodded solemnly and positioned himself near the open gate, eyes cautiously fixed on Athos' back as the other slunk further into the dark.

And soon Athos found what he was looking for: half a dozen big barrels with a label saying 'pólvora' in Spanish.

Athos didn't actually speak the language, except for a few words he and Porthos had learned from Aramis a long time ago and which were mostly meant for their amusement - half of them not suitable for the ears of minors - but he could tell from the distinctive smell coming from the barrels that he just made a find.

Although Athos had not much time to dwell on the sensation.  
He heard a cracking and then d'Artagnan shouting his name "ATHOS!" loudly.  
Before he could even react, he was tackled hard to the ground, when a bullet just hit the wall very close to his head.

Athos cursed under his breath. He had not been careful enough, maybe he was just tired and due that had not heard the footsteps even nearing.

D'Artagnan spun on his heel and fired back at their attacker, shielding the friend with is body until Athos was ready to take aim and pushed the boy out of his firing line with a careful arm.  
"Take cover", he hissed, firing into the dark as where he assumed their enemy was hiding.

And it fact there was a gurgling sound as the man was hit and stumbled to the ground.  
Athos was a decent shot in the dark, due to years of training on night missions.

Still ducked they hurried over and Athos yanked the man upwards at his collar, seeing that the wound wasn't as fatal as it would deny them some essential information before the other died. "Who are you? Why did you attack us?!", Athos demanded.

But the man just stared back at him, lips crooked into a grimace and he was mumbling obscenities in Spanish. At least they guessed it was cursing because of the wild look in the man's eyes. Apparently he did not understand them, or pretended he didn't. And when he was dead, Athos could do nothing but let him drop with a heavy sigh…

That had been a bit too close for comfort, d’Artagnan thought, and gave Athos a look.  
Neither of them uttered a word in fear there might be more attackers lurking in the shadows. Instead they exchanged a silent nod and crept further into the building.

Their search turned up nothing else suspicious, however, and they returned to where they had been attacked.

“So what you’re saying is that the black powder has been here all this time?”, d’Artagnan asked, once Athos had relayed his findings. “There has to be someone organizing this. Amassing this many supplies without anyone noticing or asking question up until now …”, he trailed off, but the implication of the words hung heavy in the air between them.

There had to be someone with considerable influence behind this. And the only man they could have questioned for details was dead. Probably nothing more than a guard against curious eyes and drunken wanderers.  
A look at Athos grim face told d’Artagnan that wasn’t their only worry.  
d’Artagnan's gaze returned to the dead man before him and he cursed. They’d just given away their advantage of surprise. With the guard lying dead, killed by a musket ball, there was really no way they could hide their presence from whoever they were trying to apprehend.

Unless ...

“Do you think one of us could take his place without anyone noticing?”, d’Artagnan asked Athos quietly. It was a long shot, considering they had no idea how deeply involved the dead man had been. Or how well all parties involved knew each other.

~

Meanwhile, Porthos was in his element.  
Or close enough to it, anyway, Aramis amended, when the tall man lost yet another round. At least Porthos had drawn a considerable crowd, and with wine flowing freely and money exchanging hands, it was easy enough for Aramis to blend into the crowd.

When he noticed some of the men that had kept to themselves earlier, Aramis felt luck might be turning in their favour.

He made his way over towards the group, and, waving his hand for another drink, made sure to jostle one of the men. When the man turned, long, gaunt face animated in annoyance, Aramis threw him an apologetic smile and offered to buy him a drink.

“Interested in joining the game?”, he asked casually, pretending to eye the money on the table weighing his own chances. There was an answering grunt, before the man turned the question back to him.

“I would, but I’ve yet to find a new employer, so I really shouldn’t”, Aramis answered with a chuckle, watching the other man closely. If Aramis played his metaphorical cards right, there might be something to be gained here. 

\-----

Athos stood, silently looking down on the body, then over to d'Artagnan. And when the boy felt a heavy hand patting him on the shoulder and noted the barely restrained grin on the other's face, the Gascony knew he had just applied for a job here..

Athos helped the other getting the man out of his jacket and they also snatched the significant bandana from him, which was a bit too large on d'Artagnan, but he wasn't complaining when Athos gave him a thorough look over.  
"This will do. But remember, be careful. This is only about getting information, no one's life is at stake here."

Athos' look was solemn when he patted d'Artagnan on the back and left him in the warehouse, with more than a bad feeling in his stomach...

Though compared to the quest with Vadim back then, this was pretty easy for the boy.. so the musketeer hoped.

~

Porthos had to stop the game of necessity when he had no single coin left. At least not on him, but Aramis was still crowd diving and therefor Porthos on his own.

He had become rather suspicious of one fellow, who had played the cards carelessly with a big pouch of shiny coins on his belt. This guy seemed anything but the usual villageman to Porthos... and interestingly enough, he had the faint smell of black powder to him, even though there were no black traces on his fingers when, he got rid of his leather gloves.

That bugger was too damn wealthy, Porthos decided and perpetually let his gaze linger on the man, even after the game was officially over... and Aramis got round back to him.

"Got anything? I guess we should be heading back soon.. " 

\------ 

With the game having come to an end, and the early hours of morning fast approaching, Aramis bade his new acquaintance and his friends farewell.

Porthos had already made his way outside a short while ago, and Aramis followed only a few minutes later. There was a chill in the air that sent a shiver down his back and, for what felt like the umpteenth time, Aramis wished for a warm bed to pass out in.

Sensing noone nearby, he turned to face Porthos and addressed the other with a tired smile.

“Not as much as I would have liked, unfortunately”, he told Porthos. “But from what I did hear, it sounded like they’re about to wrap up whatever they’re doing pretty soon. My guess is they’re going to move their loot to sell it off, so whoever their leader is, there’s a good chance he’ll be there as well”, he added, and after Porthos had relayed his own findings, they made their way back to the inn in silence.

Aramis just hoped the others had come up with something more concrete. When they entered their rooms and found only Athos present it seemed that Aramis hopes might just have come true for once.

 

~

d’Artagnan, in the meantime, found himself bored.

There hadn’t been a single human soul around in the last few hours, besides the dead body they had hastily buried behind the building. When he had suggested posing as one of the bad guys, spending the evening alone in a storage building was not what d’Artagnan had had in mind.

On the other hand, no one had tried to blow him up yet, so he counted that as a plus.

The sun was just starting to creep up the horizon when the sound of knuckles against wood sounded, and not a moment later d’Artagnan came face to face with a burly man.

They stared at each other for several heartbeats, and d’Artagnan found his hand tighten on the handle of his gun.  
Then the other man yawned and the tension was broken.

“You one of the new guys?”, the man asked.

d’Artagnan was so relieved to find not even a hint of suspicion in the man’s voice it took him a moment to nod his head.

“God, I can’t wait until we’ve moved all of this and get our next paycheck.”, the man went on, clearly tired of their task. “Guarding this shack has to be the most boring thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“Well, at least it’s easy money”, d’Artagnan answered, thankful the other spoke French. “Could be worse, if you ask me.”

“Easy for you to say, when you’ll only have to be back for clearing this dump tomorrow night. I, on the other hand, have to stay in this shithole until then. Now off with you, and remember not to be late. The boss hates that.”

“Right, about that …”, d’Artagnan answered, trying not to let his excitement at the words show. “When were we supposed to be here again? You know, just to make sure.”

\------ 

Athos had returned to the inn first of their group, without d'Artagnan, still slightly worried about the younger. But like it had been proven over the last months, the other was absolutely capable of watching after himself.. even with the big mouth.  
It reminded Athos a bit of Aramis, when they had been working together for a year or so. The youth and ruthless always came with a ridiculously amount of chance that one truly had to envy..

The musketeer went to his room, when he was sure that he was the first to arrive back in the lodging and rubbed his face in a tired manner, lighting the single candle on this table to give the dim room a bit more light.  
The night was almost done and had taken its toll on probably all four of them... Athos knew he would be staying awake till the last of them returned to the inn savely.  
Until then he dressed down a bit for more comfort, taking the boots, jacket and gloves off and refreshing his face with a bowl of water as he sat by the table.

Porthos meanwhile barely stifled a yawn as he kept an uneven strode beside Aramis on their way back to the inn. He pulled a face, and moved his arm experimentally.

"My shoulder is killing me.. or its the tiredness in my limbs, I'm not even sure which, damn that. I rather hit the bed early, do you mind telling Athos the news? Will buy you a drink for it next time."

Glad that Aramis nodded his agreement, Porthos heaved himself up the stairs and a moment later there was a thud from the door falling shut and the moment Porthos' met the sheets, he was pretty much falling asleep in his boots.

Athos in his room on the far side of the hallway counted the noises and matched them to his friends. The heavy steps, the faltering behind the door - Porthos would be pretty much out of the play for now, so Arthos braced himself to pay Aramis a visit to check on the recent events...

Interrupted in his thoughts when there was a faint knocking on his door.

Athos had to restrain a smile when he looked Aramis up and down, his friend not looking one jot better as himself, miserable from the long ride and the company of too many people.  
Silent they strolled back into the room and Athos offered the friend one of the chairs with a small wave of the hand, finding himself suppress a sigh as he watched Aramis sit down.

\---- 

Aramis sank into the offered seat with a graceless sprawl, feeling sleep tug at him.  
But there was still work to do before he could rest.

Aramis pulled himself out of his momentary stupor and told Athos what Porthos and he had found out, and in turn, learned what his friends had unearthed. Which left them in the here and now, and with their hopes riding on d’Artagnan once again.

With nothing more to do but wait for their youngest friend’s return, silence settled between them.

He should probably get up and make his way to his own room, Aramis thought, but couldn’t quite muster the energy. If he never would have to get up ever again, it would be too soon, he decided, leaning further back in his chair.

When he felt someone watching him, Aramis blinking open his eyes, not sure when he had closed them, to find Athos regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

“Right, bed. Sorry”, Aramis mumbled, running his hand through his hair. He pulled himself to his feet, and hissed at the sudden jolt of pain in his back. The muscles stiff with the exhaustion of days spent on the road and still tender where he had taken a hit.  
Aramis exhaled and tried to relax the tenseness in his shoulders. Never had the simple act of walking the few steps to his own room seemed more daunting.

And that was before he glanced up to Athos giving him a worried look.

“Don’t worry. Just tired”, he told the other, trying to wave away his concern. If Aramis was lucky, Athos might even believe it.

\------

Athos was alerted, he could not help it, the worry that the other wasn't alright made him stand up.

Under different circumstances he would throw them - Porthos or d'Artagnan for that matter - just a meaningful glance and examine the source with a firm grip to their arms and just drag the covering part of clothing aside to check - as it was his duty as their comrade musketeers and their friend.

They all had taken part in a course of how to tread injuries in battle and cure poisoning from plants, beasts and how to repress fever and infection. The very basics, but Athos was glad that maybe he could offer some kind of redemption.. for the other night.

So he stood beside Aramis, one hand on the man's shoulder, firm but prompting calmly.  
"Let me."  
When he saw the reluctant expression in Aramis' eyes Athos gave him a reassuring nod with nothing more than a single bow of his head.

When the other gave in and pulled his collar down his shoulder to display an inch of the damaged skin, Athos winched and turned to his saddle bags on the floor beside the bed. "... wait I have got something for this, if you want me to treat you. Got a balm that will relax the muscles beneath the bruising and cool the burn down a bit.."

At least ist was just a bruising and not a wound Aramis had been hiding from them for days..

Every of Athos' movements was prompting, had the faint taste of a suggestion for Aramis to decline if he'd wished, as Athos got the vial out of his belongings and presented it in his open palm with an open expression that was offering.. something.

In some way it felt like he was making amends as he eventually gestured to Aramis to sit down again, vice versa on the chair with the backrest, so Athos could to his work. 

\------ 

Despite his own fussing whenever one of his friends was injured, Aramis knew he was a decidedly terrible patient himself.  
It wasn’t that he didn’t like to be the center of attention or to be fussed over, it was simply that it felt like he was being a burden to those around him.

Not that he didn’t trust Athos and Porthos with taking a needle to his skin, as several of the scars on his body attested to.

This time, Aramis knew, it wasn’t the treatment, but the reprimand which was sure to follow it which he was loathing. Hiding an injury never went over well with any of them, ever since that disastrous mission in Bordeaux years ago.

But Athos had given him a choice, and Aramis thought there might be more than simply tending to an injury behind Athos’ outstretched hand.

Finally, Aramis nodded his consent, fingers already working on removing his weapons and belt.

“Actually, this might be easier if we use the bed”, Aramis said, by now familiar with the extent of the bruising and the fact that treating it would be easier lieing down. It was only after he had spoken the words that he remembered how the last time Athos and a bed had been involved had turned out.

Going by Athos sudden stillness, Aramis wasn’t the only one having made the connection.

“Actually, never mind.”, he added hastily, cursing himself. “Chair should be fine.”

\----

Athos actually froze in his posture when Aramis spoke. But the small moment of drollness wasn't lost on him however, when Aramis demonstratively let himself fall onto the chair at last.

"Your pick", Athos said in a gentle hum that sounded amused despite himself. He seemed collected and sure in his movements when he pulled himself the second chair close behind the other, taking seat at his friend's back and carefully waited for him to undress the coat and linen shirt.

When Aramis was bare chested and Athos had a decent look on his back, Aramis could hear a sharp hiss coming from the other man.

Athos looked the bruising up and down closely, pulling a face over his friend's state, but he didn't say one word of a reprimand. If he had any in mind.  
Instead he made quick work of opening the vial and wetting his fingers with the ointment that felt cool and soothing on his fingertips - and so also on Aramis' damaged skin one moment later.

Athos could feel Aramis tense under his fingers at the first touch, but gave nothing to it.. just making his touch a little lighter - like he was to touch something delicate.

Both men kept silent, apart from the occasional muffled sound of discomfort coming from Aramis while Athos stayed silent, apparently in concentration as he tended to his friend's back.. His eyes following every curve of the bruised back and the line of his hand moving there.

Athos was trying not to apply too much pressure to the swelling, but it was something different, which might have caught Aramis senses in that moment.. and that being the slightly heavier breathing coming from the other, the longer he actually was touching and tending to his skin.

Aramis could catch him rubbing balm to placed that were anointed a second and even third time already, and it appeared Athos was not able stop himself from what he was doing.

"You should have told us earlier", he suddenly said, words only a low mumble, conspicuously close to Aramis' ear.  
There was no accusation found in the words though, they sounded more like as if Athos was in pain himself..

\-------

But Athos kept his touch light and careful, and gradually Aramis let himself relax and lean into the touch. The steady movement of Athos’ hands made him sleepy enough to almost miss his friend's words.

Leaning back into Athos, Aramis regarded the other with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Kind of forgot about even getting this”, he told Athos with a rueful smile and an aborted motion of his hand. "Kind of busy with Porthos bleeding all over. ‘Sides, there’s not much you can do about bruising, really”, he added, letting his eyes fall close and concentrating on the feel of Athos hands.

Broader than his own, and calloused from handling a sword, but infinitely gentle.

“This is nice, though”, he told the other, humming contentedly. “You have nice hands.”

When said hands stopped in their ministrations at the words, Aramis tilted his head back and found Athos watching him. Nice eyes, too, Aramis thought, but didn’t say.

Clearly Athos’ hands were doing things to him. That or lack of sleep was messing with his ability to think clearly.

Athos was still looking at him, gaze steady and open, and Aramis found himself turning slowly and leaning into Athos without conscious thought.

\----------

Athos had found the moment rather pleasant, when Aramis relaxed under his touch, his arms casually folded over the backrest in front of him and he giving his tensed shoulders a thorough but gentle rub.

He did no even notice Aramis leaning closer to him gradually, until his head almost touched his shoulder and he could smell the distinctive scent coming from Aramis' dark curls, beside his chin.

For a moment perhaps, Athos found himself lost in the levity of them being here together and to Aramis' words he huffed a laugh "Thank you, never been thinking much about my hands though..."

It was true, he liked to give pleasure to the ones he held close - the few it were - and handling things he loved with sensitivity and tact. Like the piano he used to play as a child in the house of his parents.

In his sense there was a too great risk to damage something easily if the required awareness was absent. Athos remembered, he had a singing bird once when he was around eight. Back in the day he was rough and maybe ruthless as children his age were and when his mother gave the bird to him as a present he squeezed it too hard in his hand, not killing the bird but making it unable to fly ever again.

It was a ridiculous comparison surely, but it was a memory that was stuck in his consciousness.

It was in that moment that the door was forcefully pushed open.  
Athos and Aramis startled and drew apart as if burned, suddenly very much conscious of their proximity.

d’Artagnan, standing in the middle of the room, looked between them with confusion and embarrassment written across his face.

So when Aramis all but sprung apart from him, Athos froze as well, standing up with one fluent movement and cleaning his hands on his breeches.

He had composed himself not even a few second later, drawing the attention from Aramis, as he turned to the young man.

"D'Artagnan, how did it go? Did you learn anything about the inventories?"  
And while the young Gascony told them, Aramis had enough time to gather his clothes.

They all were dead tired clearly and with the plan more or less set around the following evening Athos told them to go get a shuteye…

\------

Aramis followed d’Artagnan to the door, but found himself hesitating on the threshold; not sure if he was trying to avoid awkward questions from their young friend or feeling reluctant to leave Athos’ company. Probably a bit of both, he decided with a sigh.

Down the hall, he heard the door to d’Artagnan’s room open and then being closed, and turned to Athos once more. “Thank you”, he told the other man. “For all of this. Rest well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Or later today, really, Aramis thought as he pulled the door of Athos room shut behind him and made his way to his own bed. Despite the thoughts of Athos’ gentle hands and just how close they had been swirling around in his head, Aramis was asleep as soon as he hit his pillow.


	6. Chapter 6

~  
Morning - or early afternoon, judging by the position of the sun - came far too early. And while Aramis wasn’t usually a late riser, he was reluctant to leave the comfort of his bed. 

After a quick wash and putting on clothes, Aramis made his way towards the common room downstairs, where he was greeted by a bleary eyed Porthos. Once Aramis was seated, the other man pushed a plate containing bread, butter and cheese towards Aramis in silent invitation. While they ate, Aramis filled Porthos in on what d’Artagnan had found out.

Athos and d’Artagnan joined them less than an hour later.

While d'Artagnan looked ridiculously up and awake while he sat by them, tugging into a slice of bread with butter of his own, Athos looked the collected lets-get-it-over-with mess that had spent half of his night thinking too much.

"Gentlemen", he initiated, sitting down beside his friends with swift movement "this is what we're going to do today, to finish this job and seize our men." 

The plan was a foolproof as it was elaborated. D'Artagnan would be once again their man behind the line. If they placed him as decoy at the handover point with a couple of empty barrels which apprently would contain black power, he would lure the men in question for them to catch and seize right on the spot. All they had to do was wait.. and hope d'Artagnan would be agile enough to make for a fast exit if things turned out .. not as planned.

"Can you do that?", Athos asked the boy, leaning over the table and looking to d'Artagnan beside Porthos.  
"Course he can do it, not the first time he's gambled his ass for the rest of us, right?", Porthos huffed and slapped the other on his back a bit too enthusiastic.

And so they proceded as planed.  
Taking positions behind a couple of trees near a small bridge on which d'Artagnan was deployed in his guise from the other day, waiting for the men to show up. 

He was visibly on edge and throwing his friends the ocasional look through the undergrowth. 

Athos huffed "If he keeps that up, he's going to blow our cover."

But in the end, they got no time to even hint d'Artagnan their request because in this moment, three riders on posh looking black horses appeared, heading right for the bridge and the barrels in d'Artagnans back.

"Halt! Who goes there?" the first man spat, as the three of them held their horses dangerously close to the young man's face. "Speak the password, boy, will ya."

Well damn. They did not think THAT one through..

It didn't really need d'Artagnan startled expression and the glance seeking for help ASAP, to make Athos, Porthos and Aramis brust through the bushes like one single man. 

"Come one, let's move it!"

 

The problem with charging head first into cavalry on foot was, that they would trample you where you stood. To be able to do that, they would have needed to gain speed, and room to do so, however. 

The upside to charging head first into cavalry was that it was easy to spook a horse, especially if its rider lacked experience. That, and the fact that they made for an easier target, not that Aramis particularly liked having to injure the beasts. Or worried overly about missing his intended target. 

 

He took out the rider to the left with a well aimed shot before the man could blow off d’Artagnan’s head. A moment later, Porthos had pulled another man out of the saddle. 

Their third opponent had been smart enough to engage them on foot, but stood no chance against the combined force that was Athos and d’Artagnan. 

Naturally, things were never that easy, and before they could breathe a sigh of relief they heard shouts and found a group of men charging them. At least these didn’t have any horses, Aramis thought. 

He had time to recognize them as the men Porthos and he had met in the tavern the other night, before the discharge of pistols made him focus on staying alive. 

In retrospect, Aramis thought it was their opponents reluctance to hit their captured leader as much as the musketeers own skills that made them come out of the whole situation relatively unharmed. 

His back wasn’t hurting too bad, Porthos hadn’t reopened his wound and nobody was bleeding. Aramis had checked. Twice. 

The same could not be said for their opponents, with most of them dead or injured. 

~

They sent d’Artagnan to inform the city guard, and half an hour later handed their prisoners over to the city officials to be imprisoned. The ring-leader, it turned out, was the brother of a local nobleman, which explained how he had gained information and access to the supplies. 

After extracting the promise to have the stolen supplies sent to Paris as soon as possible, the four of them found themselves with nothing further to do.

“Now would be the perfect time to take that bath I was talking about before,” Porthos spoke into the silence, a grin firmly in place.

 

Athos smiled despite himself and put a hand in Porthos' neck, shoving him a few steps in lead of their little company. "Then I suggest you bring a towel, don't fancy your shaking dry like a dog - it's not only your bandana that makes for a pretty miserable dangling round there, you know."

Porthos barked the loudest laugh the've had heard for days and d'Artagnan blinked in surprise as he eyed his friends closely.

Athos gave him the 'you don't want to know' glance and pointedly looked the other way, ignoring Porthos slapping the young Gascony on the back hard. "There is no shame for a man in showing what he's got, am I right, d'Artagnan?" 

The young man winced under the hit and stared with an uneloquent "Erm.." but Porthos did not give him a chance to come up with a proper reply.  
"I know what you're saying: not in front of the ladies. Bah I'm sure d'Artagnan here has seen worse in his village with all that horses around."

Athos turned to Aramis, trying to escape the witty anecdotes about well-hung.. meat and such and found the friend smirking at him knowingly. He rubbed his neck, barely fighting a grin himself now.  
It felt good to have this job finished and they really could need that little refreshment in the soothing and clean water.

\----

So a short while after, they gathered at the bank of the small lake that was settled half a mile apart from the village. 

Consideredly they had brought their weaponry along but besides that dressed down to just their breeches and loosely neck tied shirts. 

Athos let himself sink down the stem of a tall willow, watching the others and Porthos, as he was the first man down to completely naked and wade inside the cool water. As soon as the water reached above his hips he let himself fall down completely with a loud splash only in order to emerge to the surface a moment later, huffing and puffing and shaking the water out of his face. 

"Aaahh this is heaven! Come on, get in here you sticky lot."

As always, Athos was reluctant and squinted to his friends with an amused upcurl of his lip. The sun was shining on them with its last warmin rays and Athos decided to at least get rid of his shirt, as he scratched his chest lazily, as smile forming on his lips as he watched d'Artagnan following suit to Porthos' example. 

Which left him and Aramis.  
Being faced with the expanse of the lake before him left Aramis in a kind of dilemma.

On the one hand, there was the prospect of a perfectly refreshing swim. On the other hand, a swim would mean getting out of his shirt. Which in turn would no doubt lead to words with Porthos about the state of his back. 

While there hadn’t been any reprimand from Athos, and d’Artagnan had avoided any mention of what he’d stumbled upon the night before altogether, Aramis was pretty sure his luck was bound to run out at some point. It usually did. 

Which was why he found himself crouched near the water in unhappy contemplation.

 

His inner musings were cut short when he turned his eyes away from the figures in the lake and towards Athos and found the other shirtless; ready to join the others in the water. 

Aramis’ eyes followed the ripple of muscles in the man’s back as he moved, feeling almost embarrassed to find heat rising to his cheeks and pooling deep in his belly. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the other shirtless before, after all. In fact, he had shared a bed with a very shirtless Athos just a week ago. 

Even if it felt like a lot more time had passed between the stormy night that had brought a drunk Athos to his doorstep and now.

Clearly it wasn’t just Athos hands that did things to him all of a sudden, Aramis realized, and made an effort to avert his gaze. It really was rather ridiculous, he thought, and yanked his own shirt over his head almost angrily.

Better to join everyone in their swim before he could be caught staring openly and make a fool out of himself. 

Athos let some time pass, it seemed he was in no hurry to get undressed as he was still watching the others with a pensive expression on his face. He was also passing the incidental glace in Aramis' direction, finding him hesitating for no other reason than could be his bruised back. 

In Athos opinion this was no excuse to deny themselves a cool bath, which Athos knew Aramis would be rather fond of. 

Letting his shirt and the boots drop aside, as well as his breeches that followed to the heap at last Athos undressed fully, without any trances of halting back.

What did make Athos pause in his movement for a moment, before he actually stepped towards the water was Aramis finally getting done with his shirt. 

Athos watched the sun playing nicely on the unharmed parts of the slightly tanned skin of his shoulders and upper arms – Aramis had the least growth of hair, especially on his chest, of the three of them and Athos took a moment to admire the few drops running down from the bare skin, as the other started with getting used to the water temperatur by leaning and wetting his arms up to the elbows, still crouched on the spot. 

After a moment Athos stepped beside his friend and put a hand on his shoulder, carfully to not touch the sensitive area.  
"Come on..", he spoke softly in a hushed voice only for Aramis to hear and resisted the urge, to let his fingers run up and through the tousled dark hair for a moment, before he started wading into the cool lake.

Athos reward was cheerful howling from Porthos and d'Artagnan alike. The two of them had started a splashing figh of some sorts and Athos carefully ducked out of reach, letting his palmed hand with cool water run over his heated face. "Children..."

After he had washed and rubbed his face thoroughly a few times and snorted to get the water out of his nose Athos unwittingly looked back to the shore, just in time to set his eyes on Aramis, who was by now fully undressed and had intended to join them, wading carefully towards the little group. 

Athos coldn't help but stare, as his hand uselessly dropped down to the water beside him... wetness falling from a single strand down his face in small drops, he could not care less about..

Hesitating in joining the others, Aramis amended, admiring Athos’ backside as the other man waded into the water, hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. 

It's true that he had admired a lot of people, but there weren’t nearly as many he trusted as absolutely as Athos. 

The thought of risking that trust, and the danger to the both of them should they be found out is almost too much to bear thinking about. Still, something has shifted between them and Aramis found that when he looked at Athos now, he wished there could be more between them than just friendship and camaraderie. 

The thought should worry him more than it actually did.

Sadly, his staring was brought to an end once Athos was submerged up to his shoulders in the water. With a sigh, Aramis took of the last of his clothing and followed, keeping a wary eye on d’Artagnan and Porthos and their rough-housing.

“Hey,” he called out softly, once he has reached Athos side, “Mind if I join you on the side-lines?”, he asked, giving a grin at Athos raised eyebrow. 

They spent a while simply watching their friends and their antics, floating quietly next to each other. 

Aramis was glad Porthos had found a new target for his water fights in d’Artagnan, and Aramis himself didn’t have to fill the role of favourite victim anymore. Though it had always amused Athos, made one of his rare genuine smiles break out over his face. 

Aramis sneaked another glance at the older man, and found himself lost in Athos’ grace and calm for the umptheenth time that day.

Of course that was the exact moment something closed around his ankle and tried to pull him below the surface.

Aramis let out a yelp, and grabbed Athos arm to keep himself above the water, only to drag the other down with him. They emerged sputtering and dripping a moment later, to Porthos booming laughter and d’Artagnan’s sniggering. 

When Aramis suddenly clung to him and dragged him with him underwater with a pretty desperate yelp, it was too quick for Athos to even react. 

Porthos that sly bastard... 

Laughing in his friend's faces, the man showered them with another big splash the moment they reappeared to the surface and Athos did not even bother to get his soaked hair out of his face –

instead he winked to Aramis and as to a silent command they both threw themselves onto the third man, dipping him underwater and holding him there for a moment, struggling like a fish in a net and sounding like a boar.

Clever enough of d'Artagnan, to keep his distance he gave the most sympathetic face to his friend, when they finally let Porthos emerge to the surface again. 

"Two against one is not honourable you shits!" Porthos barked snorthing, but Athos just smiled in his face. "And attacking someone from behind is?"

"Technically it was from beneath", d'Artagnan tried to outsmart them and immediately got a cold shower from Aramis. 

 

But in the end, all the men's temper finally had cooled down a bit - even Porthos' and they sprawled beside each other on the shore with relish, Athos taking his place under the weeping willow again and rubbing his hair with a piece of a dry cloth, he had brought for the occassion.

Porthos gave him the most thoothy grin he could probably muster, but graciously kept himself from shaking the wet drops off. The sun would do its part eventually. 

So Athos caught himself peeking over to Aramis soon again, the memory of the other taking a grasp on him deperately down in the water rather stuck in his mind... They all were lying bare and it was pretty difficult to keep one's eyes off.. 

A bit of watching was surely not a big issue, men did it all the time to compare each other, the way they were built and to sound out who was the fittest in their midst. 

That was probably where d'Artagnan gaze was coming from - but not Athos'... he had admitted it to himself already, there was no way to deny that what he felt when he let his gaze subtly wander over Aramis' body was attraction, the craving to reach and touch.

Athos had not so much as formed the thought in his mind yet... he was sure his feeling would raise an issue for all of them and beside this, it was not acceptable among the king's musketeers to follow this life style openly.. any practice of sodomy was to keep under wraps, though Athos knew of a few of his comrades which had or had had male lovers.

It was a good thing they were still cooled down by the water and the blood had to be gathered around their thoracic reagion to support the vital organs because otherwise Athos pretty much would have needed the cloth to be pressed to elsewhere by now..

He sighted, finally letting his head fall backwards against the rough bark of the tree, one leg bent, the over outstetched comfortably.

Aramis was laying flat on his back to avoid Porthos from noticing the bruise he was still hiding, squinted his eyes shut against the glare of the sun with a contented sigh. Only for thoughts of Athos to invade his peace and quiet.

 

When he turned his head in the direction of the other man, Aramis found Athos watching him intently. 

The contented warmth that spread through Aramis shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. He really did love Athos, then. The thought was as natural a realization as it was dizzying. Fortunately, Aramis was already lying down.

Now that his own feelings on the matter were mostly clear to himself, it seemed Aramis couldn’t help analyzing Athos every move. There had been the night that had started it all; 

Athos’ confessing that he’d hoped for a chance with Aramis could only mean that these feelings were not one-sided. 

But then there had been Athos frantic apology and his silence on the ride here and Aramis had thought he had misinterpreted the situation until Athos had tended to his back and lingered long after he was done. 

Hands gentle and caring. Almost loving.

~

These thoughts stayed with Aramis even when they called it a day and headed back to their inn, and the celebratory meal and drinks which followed.

If any of his friends noticed his more contemplative mood, they didn’t not mention it, though Aramis caught Athos eyes on him several times throughout the meal.

There was, however, still the long ride back to Paris ahead of them, so they retired and said their goodnights at a reasonable hour. 

“Athos,” Aramis called out, once Porthos and d’Artagnan had retreated to their rooms, hastening his steps to catch up with Athos. The older man raised a questioning eyebrow, but invited Aramis wordlessly into his room.

 

“I … “ Aramis started, when they were alone and away from prying eyes, and cursed himself in Spanish at his own indecisiveness when he couldn’t go on. He was not usually one to be at a loss for words, and going by Athos amused expression, his verbal floundering had been noticed. 

 

“If I have completely misinterpreted all of this,” Aramis started again. “I am truly sorry and would ask your forgiveness. But if I have not … “

He let the sentence trail off, and stepped into Athos’ personal space. Watching Athos’ face closely, Aramis hands reached out to grasp one of Athos’ and, palm up, brought it to his lips.

“ … If I have not,” he whispered, “would you be able to love me like I love you?”

~


	7. Chapter 7

_“ … If I have not,” Aramis whispered, “would you be able to love me like I love you?”_

_~_

Aramis could witness Athos' eyes widen to the tender gesture and his request, clearly Athos had not expected anything like this to ever happen. He was still holding his hat uselessly in the unoccupied hand and his fingers clenched the rough fabric as in an impulse to react to Aramis' gesture.  
  
Athos' eyes lost its stare into Aramis' gentle but cautious expression and instead he blinked several times, clearly in loss of words.

"You know that I love you, Aramis", Athos finally managed to utter, already slapping himself mentally for the imprudent approach "Like I love Porthos too, and to some extend also d'Artagnan, you are the dearest brothers to me, not in blood but like you know, you are the most important people in my life."   
  
Athos could watch something in Aramis' look harden and calling him on his words - he was evading the true meaning behind his friend's words, and in a way mocking them both.  
Athos felt regret that instant before Aramis even had a chance to respond. His fingers all but clawed into the hat now with suppressed anger over himself.

This was a chance.. Aramis was offering him, he could take it, be happy or at least try to be. Anne had set him free in that burning house and there was nothing he was bound to by promises now - nothing except his closest friends in a bounding of trust and love and now the offering to share with each other on an even more intimate level - if Athos was ready for it.  
Maybe it was just natural..  
For sure it was, was Athos' heart and his mind wanted. In fact he had been playing out indelicate scenes in his head quite occasionally when there was too much drunk grabbing and shuffling against each other in the crowded tavern - or sleeping by the swaying fire involved.. but he never had dared to give the thought a distinctive shape.  
  
Now, Athos knew he had to make up his mind. And he did, when the hat dropped carelessly to the ground, because Athos needed his hand free to place it in Aramis' neck, fingers gently caressing the skin before he pulled closer.

His breath ghosted over Aramis' cheek as Athos seemed to need a moment, his eyes closed, then he kissed him chastely, for one time before drawing back just an inch, eyes till lowered.  
"I need you... need you in my life."

When Athos leaned in to kiss him softly, Aramis eyes fluttered closed. It was just the barest brush of lips, there and gone again, before Athos pulled back, forehead resting against Aramis own, but not meeting his eyes.

“Athos …,” Aramis breathed on an exhale, and brought his hands up to rest on either side of Athos face, thumbs caressing lightly until the older man met his eyes.

"You have me," Aramis whispered, his own gaze never leaving Athos'. Trying to make the other man see the truth in his words.

"Now and always. For as long as you’ll have me."

Aramis watched the emotions play out on Athos’ face as the words sank in, and leaned in to kiss him again. Where their first kiss had been almost chaste this one was the exact opposite, open-mouthed and heavy with passion.

Aramis felt arousal pool low in his stomach, and let his hands move to come to rest on the small of Athos’ back.

Athos’ hand, where it rested at the back of Aramis’ neck, found its way into dark curls and tugged, making Aramis moan softly.

His hands buried in the fabric of Athos’ shirt, Aramis pulled and Athos followed without hesitation, moving until their bodies were flush against each other and they hit the closed door with a thud.

The need for air forced them to break apart, their harsh breathing the only sound in the silence of the room. Taking in Athos’ dishevelled look and his kiss-swollen lips, Aramis could not help the giddy laugh that escaped him. Trapped between the door and Athos’ warm body, he could feel the other man’s arousal against his own.

  
“Do you want me to lock the door?”, Aramis asked with a smirk, and laughed at the annoyed growl from Athos it earned him.

Athos leaned in to Aramis, burrying his face into the curve of his neck and breathing in the familiar scent that made him almost drunk with longing.

Aramis' curls tickled his face and Athos growled into the other's ear before they fell into that deep kiss again - Athos obviously in lack of experience due the long time it had been for him, but he made up for it with all the devotion he put into the kiss.

  
He was avid for Aramis, the moment the mental barrier in his mind was broken down.. and the moment Athos' mind had closed down he was all passion and dedication, similar to how Aramis had experienced the other in battle.  
  
"Do it... and then let me bed you..", came the low hum from deep of Athos' throat, his custom as commander showing for the last time, before he pressed in to Aramis once again, grinding against the lenght of his body and shifting positions of their hips.

It made him moan stifled before he withdrew.   
  
While Aramis locked the door in his back carefully, Athos strolled over to the bed and relieved himself of his boots first, coat following and finally he sat down on the edge of the bed.

He was already loosening the binding of his shirt, eyes never leaving Aramis... when he finally pulled the piece of clothing over his head and left it to the heap on the ground carelessly...  
His chest was heaving visibly the moment Aramis turned to him and stepped in front of the bed. He did it slowly for the effect of it.. and Athos watched him stripping off his clothes all so slowly, teasingly it -  made the breath in Athos' chest hitch as he was watching closely.

The dim light combined with the shadows in the room played wicked game on Aramis' skin. It made it almost painful for Athos to not reach up for the other and pull him down to him forcefully. 

But eventually Aramis joined the other man on the bed, and Athos kissed him again, slow and deep.

The feeling of skin on skin sent a shiver down his spine and Aramis groaned into the kiss at the delicious friction of their arousals rubbing together.

  
When they were even and bare chested Athos welcomed Aramis on the mattress and on him, carefully leaning back and pulling his lover on top of him.

His hands ghosted over every inch of Aramis' wound back and became firmer when they reached his shoulders and slid down along the strong arms.  
He pulled the other close, as close as possible, wanting to feel him with every inch of his body pressed close. 

Aramis' knee slipping between his tights drew a sharp hiss from Athos. He cupped Aramis' face, fingers tracing the prominent jawline as he pulled him near into another drowning kiss.

They broke for air once more, and Aramis shuffled down the length of Athos body and was peppering every inch of skin with kisses.

He paid special attention to each nipple, smiling around the hardening nub when Athos groaned and wound a hair into the dark curls of Aramis' hair.

With his head thrown back and eyes closed, Athos was the picture of beautifully debauched, and Aramis offered silent thanks to be shown such trust and love.

“Beautiful,” Aramis whispered, unable to help himself. The look Athos shot him would have been half exasperated and half fond under normal circumstances, Aramis knew. But now there was only wonder and passion and in Athos’ eyes and his heaving chest.

The fact that Athos was letting himself be lead instead of taking charge had surprised Aramis at first, but was not unwelcome.

“What do you want me to do?” Aramis asked, pulling back from where he had been nuzzling Athos hip enough to prop himself up on his arm and meet Athos gaze.

Athos regarded him slightly wide-eyed, looking flustered for a moment. Ah, Aramis thought, and smiled fondly.

“So you know how this works but haven’t actually experienced it yourself”, he said, not unkindly, and planted a kiss to the inside of Athos’ thigh. There was no judgement behind his words, only the promise of patience and caution.

Aramis probably had enough experience for the both of them, certainly enough to make sure Athos will feel only love and pleasure tonight.

“Tell me if you want me to stop” Aramis told Athos, voice serious. He carded his hands through the trail of hair on Athos’ stomach, purposefully ignoring Athos’ straining member.

  
Athos eyes were still watching him intently, and Aramis licked his lips, an idea forming in his mind. 

Athos for a moment was complete lost in the moment and Aramis‘ touches. It was overwhelming in a way, the touches, the swelling sensation in his stomach and his groin reacting to every teasing attempt as Aramis went down on him. 

He was good… surely as skilled as rumors stated it, from doubtlessly maids and squires alike. 

Athos forced himself to keep his eyes open for the time Aramis was hovering over him, though the urge let himself fall into the touches and struggle with his own reaction to it was tempting.

It still was so strange to give up self-control for pleasure.  

His eyes were fixed on Aramis, almost watching him with awe.. but also deeply affectionate.

The firm grip in Aramis’ hair was meant for the last remaining impact of control, but Athos felt it loosen by the minute.. and finally he gave in, throwing his head back to the mattress and squinting his eyes shut.

It was not before Aramis asked him a question that Athos blinked and opened them again, trying to collect his senses. 

This was all new to him. Of course he was aware of the process, the possibilities which came with sharing the bed with another man, but from experience he lacked every vision.

Athos ‘eyes hold Aramis’ for a heartbeat as he replied. “Show me..”

He was willing to give himself to Aramis, was trusting and more like craving for what the other had given him so lavishly.

And all he did was nod his consent to Aramis’ words now, mouthing a silent ‘please’ and giving  Aramis’ hand on his stomach a firm and single squeeze for reassurance. When his hand slipped from there, Athos could not resists to palm himself through the fabric of his breeches for the duration of a long breath – it only made the strain worse.

The trust in Athos words left Aramis momentarily breathless and at a loss for words.

Instead, he reached for Athos hand and linked their fingers together and kissed him again, putting all the words he could not find into the action.

“Thank you,” he murmured against Athos neck, not sure if he meant for the trust shown in him or for Athos choosing to bestow his love on him.

Aramis let his hands wander until the found the fastenings of Athos breeches. Taking in Athos silent nod of consent, Aramis rid the other of his leathers and small clothes, until Athos was laid out gloriously naked before him. Color rose high on Athos’ cheeks at the prolonged scrutiny, so Aramis distracted him by closing his hand around Athos’ straining cock.

Drawing the most beautiful sound out of Athos, Aramis kept the strokes of his hand slow and teasing, ending each upstroke with a swipe of his thumb across the engorged head of Athos’ cock.

  
At the sight of Athos, panting under his ministrations, Aramis’ own arousal surged. Overwhelmed by his feelings and the novelty of it all, he knew they wouldn’t last long. Not as long as he would have liked to - taking his time and driving Athos mad with passion.

But he didn’t carry and oil, and besides, Aramis didn’t think Athos was ready for that yet. Fortunately, there were other ways to pleasure, and with a hand pinning Athos’ hips to the bed and making sure their gaze stays locked, Aramis took Athos into his mouth.

"Aramis!" Athos gasped out, the other's name falling from his lips before Aramis even had his mouth in place completely.

The moment Athos felt Aramis' lips on him he gave a loud and stretched groan, rocking his hips up and was only held down firmly by the strong hand on his sides. 

  
This was not like anything he'd expected ever.. or rather even had dared hoping for, the pressure pooling in his groin and growing stronger in short intervals. Athos was afraid he'd lose it all too soon.

He watched his lover the very first moments as he was holding close eye contact with Aramis, Athos' expression blown and bare. Then his head sunk back to the mattress as he was yielding to his lover's skills.  
  
The sensation of a hot and wet mouth on him was a faint memory to Athos, but with Aramis - a man to assume - it felt different. He just tickled all the right spots with his tongue, making Athos gasp and the breath hitch in his throat. The easy scrape of Aramis' beard and the mustache to his inner tights added to the sensation in a strong way.. 

The bristly press to his scrotum literally forced Athos to take in the air with a sharp hiss and made his cock twitch in Aramis' mouth.    
  
After the first uproar, Athos lay noticeably silent, constrained, almost concentrating.. his breathing an uneven pant. 

The caloused fingers settled to the dark curls during the course, combing through Aramis' hair affectionately as Athos rolled it hips lightly to the rhythm Aramis was setting. Humming softly..

So it appeared a long time passed, in which Athos was panting and writhing in the sheets more and more, coming so close a few times but never making it over the edge. His restraint seemed too omnipresent and even made Athos whimper in desperation at some point, glad Aramis was bearing with him..

And when his nails digging into Aramis' scalp lead to the missing clue Athos was giving the other unwittingly, Aramis seemed to understand.

He used a bit of teeth, lot the mindfulness to his beard and instead let his nails run over the sensitive skin around Athos's hips with pressure  - it did the trick.

   
Just that slight bit of pain added to the pleasure Athos had needed so badly and made him groan almost silently as he finally spilled - not without giving Aramis' shoulders a soft shoving, an indication for him to draw away now if he wanted to. 

Aramis ignored Athos' warning hand on his shoulder, and instead focused on doubling his efforts, eyes never leaving the other man's face. When Athos came, arching and face contorted in pleasure, Aramis felt Athos' fingers digging into his shoulder.

Aramis swallowed, throat working around Athos as the other man shuddered with the aftershocks of orgasm.

When Athos stilled, Aramis rolled off of him, coming to lay on his side next to his lover. He reached out to brush sweat-damp hair out of Athos face. The other turned to face him, blinking his eyes open slowly and Aramis leaned in the rest their foreheads together.

“Okay?”, Aramis mumbled against Athos’ lips, hands gently tracing Athos’ features.

Aramis’ own erection was almost painfully hard where it was pressed against Athos’ thigh, but this came first. 

In lieu of an answer, Athos kissed him again, slow and open-mouthed. Aramis moaned into the kiss, and Athos, seemingly encouraged, pushed until Aramis was on his back, their earlier position reversed.    

Once Athos was settled on top of him, he looked momentarily lost, hands trailing down Aramis’ stomach.  Aramis' hips arched upwards into the touch, a low keen escaping him.

“Please,” he whispered breathlessly, when Athos' hands stilled momentarily. Only for his next words   to be lost in a jumble of French and Spanish as Athos wrapped his hands around his aching cock.

 

Athos palmed Aramis gently but firm through the last remaining fabric of his breeches. The sounds coming from his lover made Athos’ lips actually twitch suspiciously into a light smirk..

As much as he felt done and pleasantly heavy in his limbs for the moment, he was enjoying himself way too much. All the small noises and especially the Spanish coming from Aramis made Athos’ hands more certain but also rough and demanding in his touches.

His hands made quick work of the unfastening of Aramis’ breeches and the smalls beneath.. and when Aramis lifted his hips for Athos to pull the last piece of clothing down, Athos took him around the narrow hips, fingers grabbing the firm buttocks and pulling him close, halfway into his lap with surprising strenght, so Aramis’ straining cock was pressed firmly against his own groin.

It made them both gasp and Athos let go of Aramis’ fine arse only reluctantly, not without dipping into the delicate curve with one finger… experimentally for the moment of a heartbeat.

He was intrigued, curious, that much Aramis could sense.  But as soon as they were both naked Athos could not hold back as to lay his arms around his lover and grind against him in full body contact, devouring the sensation of bare contact everywhere.

Low grunts and rough breathing were the only sounds coming from Athos at this point, he loved Aramis uttering nonsense and flattery and probably soft curses in Spanish as he drew back almost painfully and placing kisses on his way down – on the flat and heaving stomach, on his hip-bone each and his hand already carefully wound back around Aramis’ needing cock. 

Athos fondled the sensitive testicles, the lengh of Aramis’ manhood and finally gave a first kiss to the throbbing head. As if Aramis’ staring at him wide-eyed was the last assurance that Athos needed he lowered his head and took him deep in, determined to return the favor as good as he could manage. 

He ushered Aramis to place his legs over his shoulders, lifting him up a bit again with soft strength as he worked his mouth and tongue on him with abandon.

The heat that engulfed him made Aramis gasp, hips arching up for more. Gentle hands held him in place, and Aramis watched with wide, dark eyes as Athos’ hesitant ministrations grew bolder at Aramis’ sounds of encouragement.

It had been a while, and to have this with Athos, true and loyal Athos, was almost more than he could handle. It was clear Athos hadn’t done this before, not with a man, anyway.

There’s a little too much teeth and Athos didn’t yet know his own limits, but Aramis only feels his heart swell more at the thought that Athos chose him to be his first.

  
What Athos might have lacked in experience, he more than made up for in eagerness, and before long Aramis was lost in the throes of passion. Head thrown back and eyes screwed shut as his hands scrambled for purchase in the sheets.

  
The warning Aramis gives Athos when he felt his own climax sneak up on him only served to make Athos look more determined. It was a sight to behold, Athos with his lips wrapped around Aramis’ cock Aramis thought, and was unable to tear his eyes away.

  
It was over all too soon, the feelings and emotions between them to new and raw to draw this out. Aramis arched and cried out, coming with Athos’ name on his lips.

  
Afterwards, it took Aramis a moment to come back to himself, overwhelmed by the force of his orgasm and affection for Athos. He felt Athos lowering his legs back to the bed carefully, and reached for the other man blindly.

Their hands twine and their legs tangle where they laid side by side, and Aramis is glad that for now, Athos seemed more than happy with the close proximity and gentle touches.

  
“I love you,” Aramis tells Athos, smiling up sleepily at the other. 

Sure it was rare for Athos to let someone actually come this close to him - not only on a physical base. It was a sign that he had opened himself up to the other, a process that took five year eventually to ensue.

Still, Athos might be wary with declarations of love and affection - if they were spoken carelessly. 

He had sworn to himself to permit no romance in his life again.. and here they were and things felt different. Felt just in place.

Athos could be sure that Aramis would not expect anything of him which make him uncomfortable, pretty much he was certain that not a lot would actually change between them. It was an addendum to their relationship - not a change. 

Still he could not give the exact words back to his lover, but Athos leaned in to Aramis, kissing him passionately and deep, his eyes just half way closed to tell Aramis all the things that he was not able to do so with words.

For once, he did not feel lonely. A sensation that touched his insides, and he had not even granted himself a bottle of wine this night.

When he drew apart Athos took Aramis' naked body beside him in with one last lingering glance, admiring like Aramis should have found out by now that Athos was the visual savorer, before he pulled the duvets over them both, giving the other more than a generous half of it. 

".. I hope you're staying with me the night. I'd love something beautiful to look at in the morning.." 

Athos' faint smile is shy and gentle. Head already rested in the down pillow he reached to stroke off one strand of hair from Aramis' forehead in a gesture of cajoling.

Aramis leaned into the touch, nuzzling into Athos’ hand.

“You do realize that flattery will get you nowhere, don’t you?”, Aramis murmured in teasing amusement, pressing his face against Athos’ neck to hide the color blooming high on his cheeks despite his words.

While it wasn’t that he was not used to compliments, being paid them by Athos was new and sent a jolt of warm affection through Aramis. His teasing was somewhat ruined by the fondness in his voice and the fact that Athos could surely feel the smile against his skin.

  
Still, and as much as Aramis found himself unwilling to move from Athos’ side, he probably shouldn’t stay the night. Especially with the possibility of being discovered hanging over their heads as it did.

  
On the other hand, their chances of being found out here, as opposed to Paris, were mostly limited to Porthos and d’Artagnan walking in on their sleeping arrangements unannounced.

While Aramis didn’t even want to consider the disaster of a conversation that particular event would invoke, it would also be a lot less dangerous than the number of people that could find out about this back in Paris.

  
Besides, now that Aramis actually held Athos in his arms, he found he was entirely unwilling to ever let him go again.

  
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay”, Aramis told Athos, sneaking a possessive arm around the other man’s waist. “But hush now, love, and try to get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up”, he added gently, returning Athos’ smile with one of his own.

  
Athos could not help himself but snort into the pillow when Aramis called him love affectionately, telling him to go to sleep. 

This.. by all means was a thing he would need to get accustomed to first, though it was not unpleasant.. as that swelling in his chest told him. "And you do realize I'm no woman, don't you..."

But Athos did not stay awake to hear the rest of it, he fell into a deep slumber just moments before Aramis himself..

 

* * *

 

The next day brought them on the streets again - on their long ride back to Paris. And like Athos assumed there was not so much as slight change in their way of interacting, that was as long as Porthos or d'Artagnan were around.

He intrinsically felt the need to be close to Aramis, more than before of course... but in a rather more physical way. They were close before on a mental level that included all three of them, Porthos too.

But Athos was a man, a man whose body acted in exactly the right way it did and told him quiet frank and candid what he desired: to rewind to last night's affairs and touch and feel Aramis again.

Just, for the moment, this would have to wait.. 

They rode back in their usual formation, Athos at their front, Aramis at the side of Porthos and the youngest in their midst chatting cheerfully as he was not holding a straight line. 

But that evened feeling stayed in Athos' limbs, his heart a stone lighter than on their way there and Aramis could feel the casual glance finding its way to him. 

Although, doubts were also creeping up in Athos' mind without him so much as realising before it was to late. 

Athos never had seemed the passionate and devoted but he was faithful. But what about Aramis.. maybe, so Athos mused, it was just an one-off to him, like the women he lay with. 

But Athos pushed the thought aside the very moment their eyes met over the flames of their camp fire the other night.

And if that did not as much as to clear Athos' doubts, Aramis' mouth did .. the moment they snatched one moment of privacy away from the camp, with Athos' back pressed firmly to solid ground of a sparse rock or the trunk of a tree. Eyes closed, breeches open and pulled and Aramis crouched before him, pleasuring him with devotion like the other night.

They would do it quick and quiet. Like they didn't have much time. 

Athos was good with quiet. As least if he had to. 

Though it was barely enough to keep them going and the ride back to Paris became a miserably long one.. And there was on Obstacle that they probably underestimated because it was sublte and had been with them for the past five years.

Porthos warily eyed them the following time when they came back to the camp together. Athos following Aramis on short tracks. And while Aramis told their friend about nature's call that one could not possible affect found Athos it hard not to wince, because it came way too close to the truth.

And Porthos was not buying it, obviously. 

"Like girls that hit their bleeding in sync, don't tell me you got too much sun down there by the lake."

Athos huffed, just as feeling awkward and disgusted at the same time, but he seemed amused nevertheless. 

"It's not the sun, that much I can tell you, Porthos."

But the heat probably...  like there were different kinds to it. 

The moment they passed the southern gates of Paris, Athos felt relief take over him. It would be only one report to Treville now and then following a free evening for all of them. 

An evening which they usually spent together as the three of them, drinking and playing cards in the tavern. There was no way to break with habbits now - Athos knew as well as Aramis did, and as strong the desire pooled in Athos to experience that strange and new sensation with Aramis again, his sense of  comradeship was just as strong.

It was two forces struggling for the upper hand in Athos, glaring evident right after the report, when they left the garrison stocks.

It was Porthos and d'Artagnan first, Athos with Aramis falling closely behind and the older pushed his lover to the stone wall in a swift movement, claiming him in a messy open mouthed kiss a moment before Athos' mouth was on Aramis' ear, a soft murmur. 

"Sleep the night with me..." A request, if not a plea.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mental soundtrack to this chapter: Mr Probz - Waves
> 
> I wish I could make it easy  
> Easy to love me, love me  
> But still I reach, to find a way  
> I'm stuck here in between  
> I'm looking for the right words to say
> 
> I'm slowly drifting, drifting away  
> Wave after wave, wave after wave...
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Next we were thinking of giving the Marsac- Arc a go. So much angry ex-boyfriend potential ... and Porthos will be definitely up to them, he's not stupid after all.  
> If you have any suggestions, thought, claims, cheers or cake - bring it =)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we start a new side-quest. Its the beginning of the Marsac Arc in 1x04 The good soldier and the story is set right after their return from the assignment in south France.  
> The original plotline will be followed though we a differing from it on various occassions to deepen the Athos/Aramis plot ;)  
> Will be more angst, will be ex-boyfriend issues feat. a wary Porthos and lots of hurt/comfort and awkward romance in the end.

Back in Paris, they had stabled their horses and were on their way to give their reports to Treville. And afterwards, drinks at one of their usual haunts, no doubt.

Though in the case of the two of them, Aramis thought, they might just cut the drinking part short and relocate somewhere more private. If Athos were to agree. 

With just how quickly Aramis found himself pressed against the wall, stone cold against his back as Athos kissed him hungrily, it seemed they had had the same thoughts, really.  

For the moment, Aramis let himself enjoy the weight of Athos body pressed against his own, winding his hands into Athos hair to pull the other closer still. A sigh escaped him when Athos nuzzled his neck and turned into a shiver of pleasant anticipation as the older man’s word sank in.  

Before Aramis could give more than a frantic nod, Porthos voice calling their names from outside brought them back to the present.

They pulled apart reluctantly and with matching smiles of embarrassment on their faces at having been carried away as they had been.  

“Well, the sooner we get this over with”, Aramis told Athos, squeezing his arm gently “the sooner we’ll have time to ourselves.” The promise was clear in his words, and as one, the two of them turned and joined their friends in the courtyard.

Porthos was giving them an unimpressed look, clearly suspicious, but Treville’s appearance on the balcony above them cut any discussion short. 

The details of the briefing were mostly lost to Aramis, who found his attention drifting. Caught between memories of their night of passion spent in the inn and the promise of things to come, he had heard in Athos voice only minutes before. 

Next to him, Athos was as professional and put-together as usual. Still, Aramis couldn’t help but smirk at the almost inaudible sigh which left Athos lips once Treville declared their briefing over.

Before they could take their leave, however, Treville spoke up again. 

“Another thing,” Treville told them, looking even more put upon than he normally did. “The king is expecting a delegation to visit in regard to a peace treaty. I want all of you on duty to prevent any incidents.” 

“Delegation?” Porthos asked, confusion coloring his voice. It wasn’t like Treville to be so vague about guard details. 

“The duke of Savoy and his family", Treville said, and Aramis froze. 

For a moment, there wasn't enough air. In the next, there was a hand on the small of his back; steady and warm and well out of Treville's sight - and Aramis sucked in a breath like broken glass.

It was only the solid presence of his friends that kept him where he stood,  and once they were dismissed, Aramis wrapped his arms around himself, suppressing a shiver.  

 

Athos exchanged a glance with Porthos, both flanking their friend's sides quietly. The attack in Savoy was only a faint part of history to them, other than to Aramis who had witnessed the attack first-hand and vividly...

Trusting their friend was a professional Athos and Porthos were still worried and it was Athos' hand in Aramis' neck a moment later, giving reassurance.

Yes, they would defintely spend the night together but presumably in another fashing than Athos had hoped for. It could not be helped.

At least, the sullen look on Porthos' face had vanished. He was the most empathetic of them despite his rough apperance and felt when there was need to take care of a matter... or a friend.

"Come on, let's get a few drinks."

 

Athos and d'Artagnan nodded agreement, Athos gently steering Aramis from the garrion yard and after his friends.

For a moment his arm came to rest around the other man's waist, hidden by the navy blue cloak flourishing to Aramis' strode.

They drank and talked about everything but the following day, which left two things strictly in the dark and from being voiced and Athos wondered how long things would actually work out this way, hushed up, before the cover would blow. 

Athos had learned to not trust his luck the hard way .. but right now all he cared about was Aramis; a strangely unfamiliar sensation to put someone else's concerns before the own, that he'd thought he had lost. 

It was visible though, with him handing the bottle of wine over to Aramis, instead of gulping it down on his own.

Like expected the evening grew old and the night did not end all too soon for any of them.

So when finally Athos offered to bring Aramis home and they bade their good night to Porthos and d'Artagnan in front of tavern building, Athos felt way too sober once again. Though he had Aramis leaning heavily on his shoulder.

Once again Porthos was clearly giving them _that look,_ again... but Athos could not find a damn to give about it right now. 

He seemed to have a responsibilty now - even though he disliked the thought. 

So the evening brought them together in Aramis' lodgings, with Athos rubbing a weary hand over his face and Aramis crouched to the wall behind him on the bed.

To care about someone was a thing Athos had not wanted for himself ever again, if he was being honest... for most of the time he was barely capable to hold his own senses together. 

But then he moved over, stripped off of boots and coat and just running his hand over Aramis' arm and his knee soothingly. He just stayed close to his dear friend and lover and gave Aramis, whe was needed so dearly this night: company. 

"Do you think you can manage tomorrow? Remember its just a guard duty, technically... Just try to forget the name and imagine a blank face, it will be easier for you."

Athos' voice was calm and quiet echoing in the barely lit room, with true sentiment.

 

“I’m okay”, Aramis answered softly. “It’ll be okay.”    

  
Athos was a warm presence against his side, and Aramis was grateful not to be alone. Glad he did not have to ask for his friend’s company to anchor him to the present and keep the memories of cold at bay.

  
“Just stay with me tonight?” Aramis asked, letting his head slump to rest on Athos shoulder. 

He knew he would find no rest, but at least he wouldn’t be alone. Not like he had been in the aftermath of the massacre, after Marsac had …. 

Aramis was surprised at how keenly the thought of that still hurt. But losing himself in memories wouldn’t change a thing, and Aramis shook his head to clear his thoughts. He hadn’t thought of the other man in the longest time, and the chances of them ever meeting again were more than slim.

  
Besides, he decided as he snuck a look at the man next to him, Athos was not Marsac.

  
Dark and brooding, with clear blue eyes and a wit as sharp as a knife, both of them. But where Marsac had caved under the burden he had carried, Athos had confided in them, in him, and tried to move on.

Arthos would not abandon him, Aramis was certain of it. Despite these thoughts and the reassuring presence of Athos’ beside him, sleep evaded him.

 

* * *

 

  
Day came with bright skies and the beginnings of oppressive heat, but Aramis noticed little of it during the parade. 

It was only the sudden sound of musket fire and one of the servants falling dead that shook him out of his stupor. He followed close on d’Artagnan’s heels as they gave chase and then split up to cover more ground for find the assasin.

Aramis soon found a rope that had no doubt been used to gain entrance to the royal gardens, but everything was quiet and no one seemed to be nearby. 

The dagger pressed against his throat took Aramis by surprise, but it was the familiar voice of his attacker that shocked him into stillness.

  
Marsac, Aramis thought.

Marsac would not hurt him, of that Aramis was sure. Feeling the anger rise inside of himself, Aramis couldn’t claim the same for himself. 

A well timed counter had the attacker disarmed and at his feet.

It really was Marsac. He was more weary looking than he had been, but with the same blue eyes looking up at him. 

Aramis knew he should call out, arrest Marsac and inform the others, but he found himself hesitating. There was a tremor in his hands as he pointed his pistol at Marsac.

The man lying before him had abandoned Aramis in an icy forest with 20 dead comrades, but he also claimed to hold answers to what happened that night.

  
And he had meant something to Aramis, once. In the end, there really was no choice at all, other than to step between the man Aramis had loved and the pistol d’Artagnan had pointed on him and eventually hide Marsac away at Mrs. Bonacieux’ house.

  
There was defeat in Marsac’s voice, when it was just the two of them.

And the sound was so jarring and wrong it pained Aramis to hear it; to see the man he had known and cared for fallen so low. Aramis' hand came to rest on Marsac’s shoulder without conscious thought, offering what little comfort he could, and knowing it would never be enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Athos disliked Marsac from first contact.  
The fact that Aramis vouched for him this strongly and also had convinced d'Artagnan to lie for him to Treville, for Marsacs' sake let something around Athos' heart clench painfull.

And in all objectivity he was no friend of rage blind accusations and attempts of murder to a man's back. It was cowardly and thoughtless and Athos hated folly.

This Marsac seemed to be so out of his head, reckless and not paying any mind to the consequences of his actions, undoubtedly it was coming from the gnawing grudge he had been holding to himself for the past five years since the attack.

Covering for that man and hiding him in Constance's house literally would be regarded as treason and get them hanged if they were found out..  
  
The only reason they were gathered around in the small room now, actually listening to the deserter and former musketeer, was Aramis. Athos and Porthos were no exception to d'Artagnan's example of faith in the other man.

  
And Athos could see that Marsac was important to Aramis... though that was not really his best reason to guard him from execution.  
And for that part, he was also unnoticeably hurt that Aramis had kept a secret from both him and Porthos..well mostly him and the fact that Aramis tended to place a hand on Marsac's shoulder quite casually didn't lift his spirits much either.  
  
He almost was grateful for Constance, as d'Artagnan's landlady spoke up her mind furiously, when she learned the details about Marsacs' past and for once, Athos could symphatize fully with the young woman.  
  
Though, the light bantering of Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan over Constance outburst finally let Athos’ patience run thin. He wanted to deal with the matter that was Marsac and get it over with the sooner the better.

The man had already gathered as much bad points on Athos' goodwill up to this point, which was not really something to aim for, but when the other let the next thoughtless comment drop about Athos not caring for the 20 dear comrades the musketeers had lost in Savoy, the older man snapped.  
  
"Insulting the man that holds your life in his hands, I see you are a fool as well as a coward."

It was merely a warning, but Marsac reacted exactly the way, Athos had thought he would - jumping to action without a thought.

But Athos had himself braced against Aramis' former best friend seconds before he even rose from his stool and glared at the man, only carefully held back by Aramis' hand who stepped between them.  
  
They fixated each other and in this moment Athos just forcefully had to hold back his repulsion. This was about so much more than the battle of Savoy...

  
Athos took in Marsac's features, unwittingly comparing the two of them in Aramis' point of view and he had the faint vison of Aramis and Marsac wounded in battle, crouching down in their hiding, pressed closely together... and then Marsac leaving, letting Aramis behind wounded and on his own.

  
Athos' gaze darkened, he seemed on edge and only hold back by the sanity of his own mind.. and not least by Aramis' hand on his chest and his pleading look.  
He was so thankful for the words that in doubt, Aramis would be always on Athos' and Porthos' side.

 

The tension in the room was almost palpable, and Aramis kept close to Marsac’s side, falling into old habits without even noticing. He had known the man long before he’d ever met Athos and Porthos, and even after, neither Marsac nor Athos and Porthos had ever made much of an effort to get to know each other. 

Marsac had always been impulsive and easily given to rashness if he felt in any way slighted or insulted. Athos, normally so cool-headed and in control, was radiating ill-hidden contempt. And Aramis, caught in the middle, was at a loss on who to turn to.

“Just hear him out. If you’re not satisfied, I’ll do whatever you suggest”, he told Athos, hand on his shoulder, and meant it.

Athos would not make him harm Marsac, Aramis thought. It was a selfish hope, but Aramis could not help himself. Marsac had saved his life, and Aramis had done nothing to stop the man from ruining his own.

If there was a chance of finding out who had betrayed them, Aramis owed it not only to their dead comrades but to Marsac as well, to seize it.

And while Athos might not believe in Marsac’s words, he would not put Aramis through the pain of harming Marsac. 

Manipulating people had always come easy to Aramis – a smile here, a friendly word there and he would usually get what he wanted. It was almost like second nature to him.

  
And now he was using it on Athos, the man who had trusted Aramis enough to share his darkest secret with him only a week ago. And already Aramis had let him down and betraying his trust…

  
It might save all of them a lot of trouble if he had died that night in Savoy, Aramis thought, barely disguised hysteria clawing on his insides.

  
“There’s somebody you should speak to first.” Suddenly Marsac cut in, and Aramis was glad for the distraction the ride to the storage room unpleasant and feeling endless..

He avoided talking to Marsac, avoided meeting the eyes of his three friends, and most of all, he avoided Athos' steady presence.

 

* * *

 

 

It was like a punch to the guts to any of them when the name of Treville fell from the their captive’s lips. The name of the man who supposedly had sold them out in Savoy..

Athos’ face darkened. He was still recultant to believe any accusation to the matter, even if the pieces fit painfully adequate into the whole puzzle. If it was Treville's word against that of a deserter, Athos surely would not side with Marsac's party.  
  
Athos also worried about Porthos. The friend was one of the most loyal followers to their captain, mainly because he owed him so much - not only his position in the king's guard. If necessary they would do anything to clear Treville's name.. IF he was to be proven innocent. The mere thought let Athos' mind numb.

  
And Marsac still was a pain. Athos only kept him and a raging Porthos at bay and carefully parted because this clearly was no way to deal with the matter, just smashing each other's faces in...

  
"Treville is a patriot, a man of honour!" Porthos snapped and d'Artagnan nodded in agreeing. 

"The charges against him are ridiculous."

  
For once, Athos had to agree with them. "We heard accusations, not proof."  
This was getting them nowhere. They needed more information. It was crucial for not jumping to wrong conclusions that could ruin it for everyone.  
  
But then this hope was lost when Marsac killed their man in question in another spun of anger, when they left him unattended.

Athos yanked Marsac backwards forcefully, away from the defensless man and giving him a hard shove as well as a warning glance. This ruthlessness was alarming, Marsac had just killed a man... and the moment they stepped on the streets Athos decided it was best to keep Aramis' old friend into custody or rather _house arrest_ in d'Artagnan's room.

  
Athos could see that Aramis was thrown. His nerves were bare and he looked the most troubled of all of them. Dealing with Marsac must have been as had for him as dealing with their latest revelations.

  
Athos wished he cold just tell him that everyting was to be righted soon. They would speak to Treville, all four of them and he was assigned to accompany the Duke of Savoy together with Porthos to prevent another assasination attempt.

Maybe they would learn some essential details if they just stayed close enough to the source of the rumours...  
  
There also obviously was no love lost between d'Artagnan and Marsac when they discussed matters on the streets with hushed voices and the younger pointed out that Marsac - after all - wasn't even a Musketeers anymore. What did his word count?

Athos for once, was to wearied to care.. so when Porthos parted the two younger men he stepped to Aramis and looked him straight into the eyes because he knew, the other was probably the most eager to discover the events.. even if there was a high chance they would not like the outcome.  
  
"I don't believe Treville is guilty and I never will, but we won't stand in your way...."

  
Athos watched his friend and lover closesy, his face a mix of concern and resignation. "I know you want to know.. I can't honstly tell if I do too but Aramis if you're going down that road ask yourself one question: If it's true, what then..?"

  
Athos was their unspoken leader, he'd make sure they would not hinder Aramis in what he had to do for himself to find peace of mind. Athos knew how miserable ghosts from the past catching up with a man made you feel.. and he admired Aramis for confronting them first matters where he himself had run from for the past five years.  
  
Aramis would have some time to himself now anyways, with Porthos and Athos himself being on guard duty to the Duke's coat-tail... not that the man would appreciate it much, Athos assumed, but this was a thing of mutuality.

Aramis didn’t want to believe what he had heard either, but he wasn’t naive enough to think that there was no backstabbing and treachery involved in the politics of king and country. 

Still, there had been no prove, and for any faults he may have had, Athos had never let them down. Not in all the years Aramis had known him; not like Marsac had.

But the men that died had been their comrades; Aramis’ friends. And he owed it to them to find out the truth.

Just as he had done for Athos when he had been accused of murder, and would do for  Porthos and d’Artagnan, should it ever come to that. They were more important to him than anything, and for Aramis it did not matter who he would have to go up against to protect them.

  
Yes, Marsac was a deserter, but he had been there. He had witnessed the slaughter, the cries and the blood and the deafening silence once it was over. Had he died in the attack, Aramis wondered, would his friends be as hesitant in finding out the truth as there were now.

  
Catching Athos resigned gaze, Aramis realized he was not being fair to his friends. They were helping him by hiding Marsac, and Athos had offered nothing but concern for Aramis’ safety. 

If it were true, what he would do was indeed the question, Aramis thought. 

It would be so much easier if he would let this go, but at the same time, Aramis knew he would not be able to live with himself if he did. He only hoped the others would understand, if not now, then, hopefully, some day in the future.

“During the massacre I wounded their leader”, Aramis told them, before they could leave with Marsac in tow.

“A cut across the back. If it was the duke who lead the attack, he’ll still carry the scar.” 

If Athos and Porthos managed to find out whether or not the Duke had lead the attack, and Aramis could unearth Treville’s orders, there might be a way to get to the bottom of this. 

And afterwards, if Aramis was lucky, he would be able to move on.

Or he could get all of them hanged for treason.

* * *

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Porthos wanted to wring Marsac’s neck. Or maim him.

Anything so long as it lead to a slow and painful death. It was bad enough that he had convinced Aramis, and by extension all of them, to put their life on the line for him, but now he was accusing Treville, the most honorable man Porthos had ever met. And the one Porthos owed his life as a musketeer to.

That Aramis had been always at Marsac’s side, touching his shoulder in a way that spoke of the intimacy of close friendship, only made matters worse.

Porthos wanted to shake Aramis until sense had returned to him, but he knew it would be in vain. Aramis was fierce in his devotion to the people he cared about. Under normal circumstances, Porthos might have commended him on it.

Now, it made him feel torn between his loyalty to the musketeers and Treville and supporting Aramis' quest for justice. It was a relief to hear that Athos and d’Artagnan both shared his opinion at least.

The moment Aramis' disappeared down the street Porthos' shoulders slumped and he gave a sight, exchanging a look with Athos.

At least, Marsac had insight enough to cease arguing as soon as Aramis was out of view, well aware that it was only because of their bond with Aramis that he continued breathing.

Not that Marsac deserved Aramis' loyalty, after he had left him to die in the aftermath of the attack.

Aramis had refused to talk about it, and Porthos hadn’t pressed him for answers, too worried to do yet more harm. With Marsac, though, there was neither friendship nor concern for his well-being to hold back the questions that burned inside Porthos to be asked.

Athos, as if feeling the same urge as Porthos, gave d'Artagnan a hint to run ahead and deliever the happy news to Constance - or rather calm her down before they eventually arrived with Marsac in tow.

The moment d'Artagnan was out of sight Athos turned to Marsac, almost in unsion with Porthos.

"You know you should be very thankful that I don't just screw your lousy head on your shoulders" , Porthos growled to the man with the disturbingly blue eyes.

Athos soothed the friend by putting a hand on his arm but his look lay on Marsac, aloof and without any compassion in his eyes. "I guess you're aware of jeopardizing our lives, most of all Aramis'. I will be straight with you here: the moment you try to sell us out or make any move on your own, it will be my pleasure to kill you."

Marsac snorted an amused sound which made Athos dislike him even more.

"This is about Aramis, isn't it..? I don't know what you two think of me and to be honest, I don't care much." He lifted his chin, looking both musketeers into the eyes straight.

"I'm not some kind of monster. Aramis is my friend too.."

“Funny way of showing it, making him commit treason”, Porthos growled, taking a threatening step closer to the man. The need to wring Marsac’s neck was almost overwhelming now, and Athos seemed to be sharing that exact sentiment, if the stony look on his face was any indication.

“You should have stayed with him. It was your duty to protect him.”

“I could not bear to watch him die", Marsac gave back, too light-hearted for Athos' liking.

"And I could not bear to take him with me and make him a deserter either", the man continued and Porthos was glad Marsac hadn’t even tried. Not that he believed Aramis would have followed Marsac under normal circumstances, but after Savoy, Aramis had hardly been himself.

Like a ghost, present but not really there, refusing to speak, hardly eating. Worst of all, Porthos remembered the screaming. He remembered Aramis waking in the middle of the night, disoriented and not knowing where he was, screaming and begging for something in a desperate string of Spanish that Porthos couldn’t understand.

Marsac’s name had been there, though, Porthos remembered. If it was possible, it had made him hate the man even more.

“He would have talked me out of leaving", Marsac continued without being urged. “You know him, you know how he is. Tell me you’d deny him anything he asked of you.”

Marsacs eyes were suddenly calculating and trained on Athos.

Huh, Porthos thought, suddenly side-tracked. So he wasn’t the only one who ….

But Athos just held Marsac's look steady and unimpressed, not a single trail on his face losing its tracks. If Marsac had intended to discompose him, he wasn't aware of the main reason Athos was excellent at gambling and cards games.. 

Though now, the glint in Athos' eyes was a warning.  _Don't go there._   

Marsac was sharp enough to get it, but apparently not enough to draw the right conclusion for himself, instead - he probed.

 "Aramis is quite the charmer, isn't he. Not to mention handsome. Always smiles and generous with his affections. Though it seems like he tends to deal them out quite too wasteful these days..."

There was Athos' arm rocking forward suddenly, and Marsac froze in his stance, but it was merely a shove to the other man's shoulder, turning him and urging him into the direction d'Artagan had just disppeared a moment ago.

"This way gentleman." Athos' voice was ice cold.

Porthos trotted beside them, blinking before he gave a wondering look to Athos, but the friend was not responsive. And to whatever conclusion Porthos might have come in this moment, it was resulted in anger towards Marsac all the more, while he directed not one single doubt towards Athos.

Not even as they delievered Marsac back to the Bonacieux household.

The two friend left Marsac with d’Artagnan to keep an eye on him. Meanwhile, they would have to play guard to the man who might or might not have almost killed Aramis...

 

* * *

 

 

Marsac, it seemed, was not the only one Porthos wanted to murder today... But that the Duke of Savoy would actually invite death as easily as he did came as a surprise.

The request for a duell seemed like a dreamlike chance, though they had the whole royal court watching them.

The look Porthos shared with Athos spoke only of the grim determination both of them felt at the challenge, though. If this was any necessary to make the Duke sign a peace treaty with France, Athos would take him by his words. 

When Athos prepared himself for the fight, Porthos took hold of his friend's pistol and doublet, standing guard over the items as he could not aid Athos in the duel in any other way. Athos was the best swordsman Porthos knew, but he felt uneasy nevertheless.

Athos stood before the Duke of Savoy, taking position and flexed into a fighting stance. Basically he did as he was told, his movements not showing any form of rage or resentment to the news they’d just learned.

Head over heart. Athos would not let his anger cloud his judgement.

He sized his other up thoroughly and pushed aside any connection he might have felt to the other man, making him just his faceless opponent in battle. Turned out, the Duke was a decent swordsman and at some point Athos even misread a feint attack and lost his balance... thankful that the duke granted him time to get into position again.

Porthos meanwhile was literally on edge. His eyes darted between Athos and the Duke, his weight mostly on his front-feet like he was ready to jump and interfere any moment. He cared about Athos, a great deal and his face told everything about it.

Athos though, was to busy to notice, he reached for his opponent’s lousy guarded left side and managed to force him backwards, placing another fine stroke that send the duke flying slumpig to the floor in front of the king and the cardinal’s feet. Everyone seemed to hold their breath in exact that moment..

Athos fixated the man before him, chest heaving, his blade pointing to the duke’s throat. He had won the battle, but for some reason… he could not let off of his victim. He saw the duke’s face concerned and confused staring up to him and for a moment Athos saw Aramis before his inner eye and the pained expression he held every time the battle of Savoy would come up.

Had the Duke really..?

He could have killed him now. If he’d wanted to.. But the moment passed and taking a deep breath in Athos slit hem and skin on the man’s chest instead – drawing blood and officially winning the battle.

The Duke gave a sharp hiss in response and stared at him wide-eyed until Athos retreated, finally lowering his sword.

There was Porthos at his side, as the first man, face enlighted with joy and relief, putting a heavy hand around his shoulder, warm and reassuring – and there suddenly was Treville in Athos face, looking everything but pleased.

He had made the Duke of a Savoy look like a fool and he understood that the chances for a treaty mainly depended on the man’s goodwill.

 "You could have defeated him in a way that allowed him his dignity”, Treville insisted. “Go and apologise."

Porthos had watched the duel closely, and could not help but sigh in relief when it was over. Not that he had not trusted Athos to take the Duke in a fair fight, but if Marsac and his dead prisoner were to be believed, there was no doubt that the man did not always fight fair.

Besides, Athos might have let himself be backed into a corner to draw out his opponent on purpose, but that did not mean Porthos had to like it.

In the end, Athos triumphed, as Porthos knew he would. What was more, the Duke was still mostly in one piece.

Porthos remembered Aramis, cold and pale and still. Dark looks and darker blood painting his face the only contrast against the stark white of the snow and blueish tint of his skin. The scene like a morbid piece of art. Porthos remembered calling Aramis name, his voice too loud in the stillness of the woods. Next to him, Athos had stood frozen with something else entirely.

Had it been him, Porthos knew there would have been a lot more damage to the Duke than the nick Athos had left. In his book, no one hurt his family, his brothers, and got away with it. Not if Porthos could help it.

He told Athos as much, arm slung over his shoulder and pulling him close, glad to feel the other warm and breathing and alive. When Treville joined them, Porthos pulled back reluctantly, sharing an unimpressed look with Athos at their captain's words.

There was nothing to be done against orders, however, even if Porthos did not agree with them. What he could do was to make sure Athos didn’t have to be alone when he had to apologize.

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile, Aramis’ search of Treville’s office had turned up nothing; no letters, no maps, no missives or orders. The thought of just what that might mean left Aramis feeling nauseous.

It still wasn't proof it had been Treville who had betrayed them, he told himself, trying to cling to the undieing faith Athos had in their captain and failing.

So after Athos were fully re-dressed and had freshen himself up a bit from the fighting he went to see the Duke in his chambers, a sympathetic Porthos in tow. 

The Duke was just talking to his minster and Athos decided to make quick work of his request for forgiveness, to get it over with. His emotions carefully concealed behind a closed-down expression he knocked and had the man staring at him questioning a moment later. 

"What is it?"

Athos stood before the duke, hat in his hands and eyes front.  
"I have come to apologise. I was over-zealous."  
  
"You won a fair fight", the Duke said, giving Athos a close look that told him this wasn't even the rest of it.. so he  _knew._  

Surely the man wasn't stupid and Athos just trusted his intuition here, keeping his composure as the other continued in a low voice. "You wanted to kill me, I saw it in your eyes... why?"

  
Athos' fingers dug into the brim of his hat as the Duke turned from him and yanked the shirt over his head - showing the exact scar across his back of which Aramis had spoken of... 

Athos' eyes might have betrayed his calm voice in this moment, a glimmer of recognition and thread just barely visible.

"You are mistaken... What motive could a Musketeer possibly have for wanting to kill the Duke of Savoy?" It was a question Athos openly left the Duke to answer, not as theoretical as the third man in their midst, the minister, might assume.

But the Duke wasn't playing along. Of course not.

He just gave a nod - a sign that Athos was dismissed and the musketeer went back to the hallway, letting out a deep breath as he joined up with Porthos. "Did you hear that?"

  
".. I saw the scar, too."

 

* * *

 

  
So far, the pieces were falling together all to suitable to Athos' liking. When they returned to the Bonacieux household to meet up with Aramis again, news did not actually turn for the better.

They had to settle things definitely and the answer to all their questions seemed to be Treville.

Athos hates every step they did towards the garrison, when a storm burst open and drenched them all down to the bone.  
Athos kept a steady eye on Aramis who seemed completely erratic after his findings - or rather non-existent findings - in their captain's archive. But by now the matter had become one of their all concernes...  
  
So when Treville came back from his duty- they pinned him down, following their mentor and friend up the narrow stairs and into the office, demanding answers, uttering accusations, urging reactions from him.

Aramis was losing himself, slowly but surely. He knew he was, but there was precious little he could do about it. Between Marsac calling on their friendship like it still meant something, like Aramis still meant something to him, and Athos believing in their captain above all else, there was nothing left to ground him. For a brief moment, Aramis felt resentment for Athos and the fact that he seemed unfazed by all of this.

Except it wasn’t true, and Aramis knew that. Between all of them, Athos was perhaps the one who felt most keenly. The problem was that he rarely showed it to the outside world. When he suffered, he would guard himself with solitude and silence and distance, but this wasn’t something Aramis could mimic. The need for gentle words and the reassurance of physical contact, of warmth and knowing he was not alone was too great. Aramis wondered, briefly, if the way he coped, too, had been influenced by what happened in Savoy.

_I will never believe the captain is a traitor._

Aramis wanted Athos to stand by him, not Treville or ideals of honor and duty, but Aramis knew it was wrong to do so. Duty and honor were as much a part of Athos as his quick wit, his skills with a sword, and his loyalty. Aramis wouldn’t wish him to be any other way, but he also wished that when he looked to Athos for guidance now, there would be something in his eyes Aramis could read

It was raining – pouring really – and they were drenched to their skin, all of them as they waited for Treville. Aramis was pacing, he couldn’t help himself, and when his voice started shaking as soon as he addressed the captain, he hated himself for it.

  
Treville was not cooperative, to put it mildy.  The man met them with resistance and anger and Athos' face darkened as he had never witnessed Treville like this ever before.. completely stressed out and on edge due to their prompting.  
  
"How did our orders get into the Duke's hand? Who told him where we were camping?"  
  
"Who killed those Musketeers?!"  
  
"Get out!", Treville finally spat, giving each of his men a glare that said he meant it when he was speaking about a court martial... this was an outrage - questions which were strictly forbidden in his understanding and close to treason.

Eventually Athos tried one last time in a quiet approach, thought it was turned down as well.  
"Will your answer our questions?" It was almost a plea.

But Treville seemed unable to reach at this point.  "No..", he stated, low and mater of factly. "I will not."

And it was final.

 

To Aramis, it was too much, all of it. Marsac’s desperation and Treville’s refusal to answer them and his friends’ stares that should not have felt like an accusation but did. 

“The captain is the finest man I’ve ever met. And when it comes down to it, I’d rather be on his side than Marsac’s”, Porthos had said, backing d’Artagnan’s earlier words.

Treville’s side and Marsac’s side, that was what it has come down to. _What about me_ , Aramis wanted to ask, but the words didn’t come.

“You may be content to do nothing, but I’m not,” he told them instead and all but fled from the garrison.

There were only two options on how this could go; reverting back to the broken mess he had been after the massacre or doing something incredible foolish. And Aramis didn’t want his friends to be party to either.

The rain was still coming down heavily as he stopped in a small side-street he did not know and when the shaking set in, he knew it would be the former.

  
That was how Athos found him.

Athos had followed Aramis on short haul, but his steps were mostly sealed by the rush of the rainstorm and Athos was quite a professional in setting a light step, staying inconspicuous of the people's eyes. There was no need for anyone to become aware of them here..

The older was a drenched as Aramis from the pouring rain, of course, but he stood silent and waited for Aramis to turn around to him. At least they had a slight cover from the rain at this place, provided by the housetops in the narrow alley. 

"Aramis..", Athos spoke first, his voice quiet as normal but with a dull vibe to it. He was weary and probably over-worried and the only reason he had not made for the nearest bottle of wine yet, to leave all the misery and doubt in their captain and his own sense of loyalty behind, was standing before him. He needed to speak to Aramis before his lover could act on something really stupid, spurred on by Marsac.

"Don't act carelessly on an impulse now, I beg of you." When the other did not draw back Athos dared to step closer to Aramis and look him straight into the face, he still had the same expression like as they'd left Treville's office: shattered to his believes, but it was no grudge directed at Aramis. Rather he could see that Athos was worried for his well-being after their discovery.   

"Can I ask you to just let it go?", he plead, searching Aramis's eyes. "For all our sakes. Its better to let bygones be bygones sometimes. I promise you we will bring Marsac out of Paris and make sure he stays there, keept savely under wraps that won't hurt him, for his own good.." 

Athos' voice had become more and more insistent by the minute but he could not see Aramis reacting to his propositions at all, which filled him with impotent fury for being so helpless.

"Aramis, whatever the cause was for Treville five years ago, I believe there is reason-" He was cut out mid-sentence when Aramis' fist hit him hard to the jaw and he stumbled backwards to the house wall in his back.. holding his aching chin.

 

If Aramis had not been as busy trying not to fall apart as he was, he might have sensed that Athos had come to help; in his own way. But the words were all wrong and where Aramis had hoped for soothing words and reassurance, there were only questions and demands. And suddenly Aramis felt anger building inside of him. How dare Athos to talk to him about letting bygones be bygones; to not do anything reckless. The words coming from the man who had held onto his own grief and drowned his sorrows in too much wine, of all people. How dare Athos talk of reason when all Aramis could see were 20 dead friends, their lifeless faces forever burned into his memory.

His fist connected with Athos’ jaw before Aramis was even aware he had crossed the distance between them. Aramis did not normally consider himself a violent man, so he was as startled by the sudden outburst as Athos seemed to be. Then he remembered Marsac, the defeat in his voice and his weary eyes, and just felt tired. The knowledge that he’d ruined every chance he had ever had with Athos only intensifying the feeling.

Athos who was, or had been, his friend and lover first, but was also Treville’s right hand man. If he had had enough energy left, Aramis might have appreciated the irony of just how spectacularly he had managed to fail in his duty, friendship and love life. 

For a moment, they regarded each other through the rain that was still coming down; there was a wariness in both of them now. Nothing to lose, then, Aramis decided, and felt a sudden kinship to Marsac. Marsac, who had been there and survived, and who had not lied. 

“If it had been me … If I had been one of the dead, would you still be so set on doing nothing?” Aramis asked Athos, voice quiet and subdued, but was met only with pained silence. Athos’ eyes moved over him, like he was searching for something, and Aramis bolted for the second time that day.

When Aramis vanished into the pouring rain, Athos remained where he stood, leaning heavily against the wall and following the sway of the other's figur with brooding eyes, til it was out of sight. 

Sometimes, he was utterly incompetent to reach Aramis. It was his stoic and strong sense of reason and logic that clashed with Aramis' striving for passion and the way of the heart which the other followed ,that was to contrasting to each other and usually needed Porthos' easy approach and understanding to harmonize them. 

But Porthos was with d'Artagnan and for some reason had not followed Athos pursuing Aramis' tracks...  

Athos hand felt for the bruise slowly forming on his chin where Aramis' blow had landed, with not so much force as he had initially felt jolting through him in the first moment of shock...

Aramis' words hurt far more than the blow, though. But there was only so much he could do,  he realized with bitter conclusion. 

So when Athos finally dragged himself home he made sure he'd spend the night with more than one thorough nightcap.. his thoughts ghosting around Aramis and sending an uneloquent prayer to heaven, as he was desperately out of options,  that Aramis would not fall for the temptation of Marsac's lead and do something that would get him exiled.. or hanged. 

For a while, Aramis just wandered around the streets, glad to find he wasn’t being followed this time. Aramis knew he should rest, but the thought of returning to his quarters at the garrison made him uneasy. It had been his home for more than five years, and suddenly it was no longer safe. The Bonacieux’ house was only marginally better, with chances of d’Artagnan being around, but it was also where Marsac was. And for all his shortcomings and vices, Aramis knew he could trust Marsac with this. Marsac wouldn’t hurt him, even if he had abandoned him, and he wouldn’t let anyone near Aramis either, and for now that was all that mattered.

There was a bed, but it felt too much like an invitation to get their throats slit. Sitting with their backs to the wall and tucked away in a corner of the room was a much safer option, and they had claimed the spot without a word passing between them. Aramis didn’t cry, and the shaking was nothing more than a tremor in his hands now. There were no words between him and Marsac after that, because there had been nothing to say, even if neither of them slept that night, too busy keeping an eye on the door.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 The next day showed no sign of Aramis, neither at the breakfast table to which Athos got reasonably late anyways, nor to the morning report. And Athos did considerably little to look for the other. If Aramis wanted to be with them, he would come.

The only thing unnerving to the point of being a real pain in the arse, was Porthos' meaningful glance. He knew well enough Athos had found Aramis the other night and much likely had a word with him - and Athos could not hide the bruise from curious looks now, could he.

 ~ 

Of the hours after Treville's confession Aramis remembered little more than the feelings of betrayal, hurt and anger. He didn't remember how he made it back to the Bonacieux house, but he remembered Marsac's words, his insistence they handle this themselves with startling clarity. 

Aramis had gently caught Marsac's face in his hands, trying to make him understand. Willing Marsac to remember the man he had once been, to remember the friend and lover he had once been to Aramis. For a moment, the words seemed to reach Marsac, in the next, a fist caught Aramis high on his temple and everything went dark.

Aramis had woken with a start and found Marsac and one of his pistols missing. Dread had settled in his stomach like lead. He had no idea how much time had passed while he had been unconscious, but there was only one place Marsac could have gone. It was what he might find once he reached the garrison that made fear grip him.

 

He found Marsac in the armory, his gun trained on Treville and a determination born of madness in his eyes. Despite the hopelessness of the task, Aramis tried to reason with him…

 

~

"I say we go look for him, it's been too long now", Porthos growled meanwhile, when the sun had reached midday and they were just busy tending to the  bridle and saddles of their horses in the garrison stables.  

Athos said nothing but patted the neck of his bayard absently. He had always found pleasure in the company of living beings who did not await him to speak his mind openly, but liked him in their presence anyway.  

"Don't want him to run away with that Marsac like the hapless couple on the back of a goddamn horse." Porthos handed the horse brush to Athos, giving him a look from beneath the brim of his large hat, not so much taunting as actually considered his friend's reaction very carefully. 

The very thought alone let hairs in Athos' neck stand up and he shot Porthos the most deadly glare he could muster. "Don't be ridiculous. Aramis would not leave his post and the garrison behind for..."

 ~

Treville's confession caught Aramis off guard, and there was angry disbelief in his voice until the words registered fully. They'd been sent out to protect the duchess . 

Their friends had not died in vain, then, but for a cause. Aramis had been a soldier long enough to understand that men were merely resources in the politics of court. He can understand that; dying to protect the king and the interests of France. It doesn't make the horror of Savoy any less real, but in time the treaty between France and Savoy might save a lot of soldiers not all that different from Marsac and himself.

More than that it is the pain on Treville's face, raw and honest, which settled something in his mind.

"Put the gun down." He asked Marsac again, begging him to understand. There was only resignation in Marsac's voice when he answered, and Aramis had wanted to weep.

 

~

 

Athos trailed off in his thoughts, when two loud shots echoed through the courtyard, making them both drop everything mid-movement and spin on their heels. A shared wide-eyed look of recognition and horror on their faces.

Athos' mind was blank, ' _No_ ' the only coherent thought twisting in his head as they made for the door,  ran over the yard and to the armory as the very first  men. Even before a couple of guards and other musketeers could accompany them.. 

~

 

Marsac's shot hit somewhere to Aramis right. The resulting plume of sparks and smoke made Aramis' first shot go wild. The second hit its target with true aim, and Marsac went down.

Aramis caught him before he could fall, his own weapons carelessly discarded on the floor. When Marsac's legs buckle, Aramis went with him, craddling Marsac's head to his chest. He hardly noticed the blood staining Marsac's shirt and soaking into his own clothing, to caught up in whispering apologies into Marsac's hair. Even after the other no longer drew breath.

Aramis only registered the sudden presence of people in the room when there was a hand on his shoulder, demanding his attention. 

"I'm okay." He whispered, and tightened the hold he had on Marsac's body.  "He wasn't trying to hurt me."

 

Athos crouched down beside Aramis‘ bent figure and checked for vital signals on Marsac like in an intuitive and trained procedure, though it was not really needful due to the stiffness of the man’s limbs and the amount of blood he had lost over Aramis as well.

But Athos followed the procedure also to keep his own horror at bay.  Aramis’ face a grimace of pain and misery.  

“I know..”, he told Aramis softly, nodding to Porthos as the taller man carefully leaned down to them and attempted to pull the dead body out of Aramis’ embrace if he let him.  

Aramis tightened his hold on Marsac as soon as he realized Porthos’ intend. Instead of strong hands taking Marsac’s body from him, Porthos was all gentle touches and murmured words; coaxing Aramis until he let Porthos draw Marsac from him, too tired to fight.

His arms felt strangely empty without the weight of his friend's body against his own.

There were men shouting and evaluating the situation, their captain being ushered out of the room by two of their comrades, but Athos not so much as gave them a glance at all, all his attention and sentiment fixed on Aramis right now.

His hand palpated the blood-drenched spots on Aramis chest, more than relieved to find it all not the man’s own blood. And with his friend and lover in one piece, Athos wanted nothing more than pull him in a close embrace that would smear the mess all over both of them.

Instead he hovered by Aramis’ side, taking the wet cloth Porthos provides them over Athos’ protective shoulder and he pressed it to Aramis’ sweaty temple, mumbling soothing words 

Aramis was glad for Athos’ steady presence, for the hands holding him up and pressing a cooling cloth against his brow. There was a blur of voices and commotion, but Aramis focused on Athos voice instead, low and soothing. They made it outside at some point, but Aramis was hazy on the when and how. There was a hushed exchange with Treville, but otherwise Porthos was a physical wall between Aramis and the world.

Then everything went like on automatism. Marsac was carried off and hidden thoroughly by Treville on the back of a cart for transport. The man giving Aramis a long and telling glance as well as a pat on the shoulder when Athos and Porthos tended to their friend in a quiet corner of the yard, out of people’s attention and interest. 

Aramis would not be questioned nor blamed, Treville would see to this and Athos trusted his captain and friend with his heart in this matter, when they learned what had happened in the armory. 

Athos realized he had been right about their captain and his intentions, and the thought should satisfy him, but he felt no gratification but was angry about himself for misjudging Aramis’ intentions. That nagging feeling he should have trusted the other more gnawing on him…

And again, Porthos gave them a minute as he stood guard and giving everyone a deadly glare that would even glance their direction. Athos was still occupied with cleaning Aramis up  and for the main time also evading his eyes, when he felt Aramis’ look on his bruised jaw in silence.  

“It’s alright now.. Marsac will be taken care of, Aramis. I have spoken to Treville that you are not to blame.. “

When he got no answer, Athos finally lifted his gaze and looked Aramis into the eyes, the expression in the dark blue-grey one of concern and regret. Like he was not able to put into words what he felt, though Aramis could see the sympathy for his loss clearly.  “I am sorry.. for what I said earlier.”

 

Aramis had no idea where d’Artagnan had disappeared to, but the fact didn’t worry him nearly as much as Athos refusal to look at him. There was a bruise on Athos jaw, and Aramis realized with a start that he had been the one to put it there.

 “There’s nothing to forgive.” he told Athos. He reached out and touched the discoloration on Athos’ jaw, willing Athos to believe the words.

 “Marsac … he was my friend.” Aramis told them. “More than a friend.”

 Porthos, from where he had taken up position a few feet away, let out an unhappy noise at the words, somewhere between a growl and whine. Athos hands tightened where they held onto his arm, but gave no other indication he had heard.

 “It was a long time ago. I should have listened to you, Athos, but I guess I thought if I could save him …” Aramis shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

 There was the sound of someone giving orders, and the cart that held Marsac’s body was wheeled out of the garrison, Treville at its side.

 “I need to …”  Aramis said, startled out of his thoughts as the world around them kept turning. Athos stood with him, hand still on his shoulder and Aramis shook his head tiredly.

 This was something he had to do alone. Athos seemed to understand, and let him go without argument. Aramis squeezed Athos hand, but he couldn’t quite manage a reassuring smile yet.

 “I’ll just … I need to see this through. I’ll be back, after, I promise. I should probably rest, try to sleep.” Aramis said, then cut himself off. The look Athos gave him said the other man knew just as well that sleep wasn’t likely to happen, but nodded his head anyway.

By the time he and Treville had made it back to the garrison, evening was falling and they were both soaked. The courtyard is vacated, their fellow musketeers driven away by the rain. Aramis contemplated seeking out Athos in his quarters, but felt unsure about whether he would be welcome or not, and ended up in his own instead.

 

* * *

 

A few hours after nightfall found Athos still wandering the streets. He was restless and fairly soaked already, though he placed most of his footfalls carefully below rooftops and the frames of house entrances. But his stride was aimed and heading for a specific direction, a slight grim on his features.

 The man’s eyes glanced through window panes and he knocked on the door of a building near the market place. Insistent and not letting go until an elderly woman opened the shutters of her window, warily to peek at him with the most averse look over the late guest.

“Please excuse the ungodly hour”, Athos pleaded, looking to the woman while leaning against the door frame wearily. “I’ve got money and I desperately need you to sell me something, will you open..?”  Finally the change of coins in Athos’ hand made the dame open the door and turn mild on him while she let him inside the storehouse…

 

~

 

Sometime later there was a soft knocking on Aramis’ door, though more like the rub of a knuckle over the wood to make is as quiet and muffled as possible.

In the door standing was Athos, drenched hat in one hand beside his leg and in the other a bottle of wine that looked nothing like their usual beverage. It was a larger bottle, traces of dust still on the slender bottle neck and the label indicated one of the most expensive Bordeaux vintages . However Athos had managed to get his hands on this, it truly was worth one to two of their month’s wages as musketeers. But what was even more unfamiliar than the bottle in Athos’ hand was the cream-white colored rose the man was tensely twisting between his outstretched fingertips on a long stem without thorns.

When Aramis stood before him, staring, Athos lifted his head cautiously and smiled, heat rising to his neck and face. “I ehm, was thinking about how you must feel.. and thought I… “

It was the careful knock on the door that drew Aramis out of the dark spaces of his mind.

A few hasty steps brought him to the door, and he blinked in confusion when he found Athos, drenched to the bone, standing in his doorway. The look of embarrassed on Athos face grew with every moment, but Aramis was too distracted by Athos' mere presence and the droplets of water in his hair and running down his face to form any coherent words yet.

 “You’re not angry with me?” Aramis asked, eventually, voice wavering. Surely, after what had transpired the last few days; and with Aramis’ actions in the alley, Athos must be furious with him. But then, Athos had always been the most noble of them all, strong and just and benevolent. Instead of an answer, Athos crowded into him and Aramis wrapped his arms around the other in a loose embrace, simply holding on while Athos buried his face in the junction where Aramis’ shoulder met his neck.

Athos exhaled, throat visibly moving as he swallowed. “I wanted to see you…”

His eyes fell shut when he leaned his face towards the curve of Aramis’ neck and nuzzled into the soft and still slightly damp hair, his words barely a whisper. “God knows how I’ve missed you.”

“You’re far too good to me. After everything I did. I should have listened to you, trusted your judgement.” Aramis told Athos, guilt at his actions enough to made him hide his own face in Athos' shirt.

Athos’ truly very wet shirt, which was slowly soaking Aramis own, dry clothes where they were pressed together. Aramis drew back a space, shivering, but kept his hands on Athos shoulders. It was only then that he noticed the items still clutched in Athos’ hands.

 “You brought me flowers.” Aramis pointed out, gesturing at the rose still clutched in Athos hand in bewilderment and felt his cheeks flush. Or just one flower, really, beautiful and delicate. At his words, Athos blushed a bright crimson, and Aramis felt his heart swell with affection.

 Awkward silence settled between them, and neither of them was sure where to look or what to say in fear of making it worse.

They were both idiots, Aramis decided, grabbing Athos face in both hands and kissed the other forcefully enough to almost make him drop his no doubt precious cargo. The bottle of wine and flower were still clutched in Athos hand. His hat, however, hit the floor as Athos used his now free hand to pull Aramis closer. Neither of them paid it any attention, too distracted by each other and the feelings between them.

“I missed you too. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Aramis told Athos quietly, once they had pulled apart to catch their breath. Then, in a regular voice, added: “Now get out of these clothes before you catch something.” He’d let Athos do it too, just as soon as Aramis was ready to let go of him.

Athos gave Aramis one of his most sincere and warm smiles, the rarest that took over his eyes as well as they parted and they were unable to break eye contact. It took Athos another couple of seconds to snap out of it though, then he blinked and looked down at his hands, still carefully holding his gifts.

"Yes. I brought you something.. as a courtesy and something to easy the mind." He lifted his hand, holding the rose out patiently, to Aramis to properly except the token. He turned with a smile when Aramis brought the rose to his face, giving them both a moment of  privacy to handle the slight awkwardness that came with the matter. He set the bottle down on the table in the small room, with care, sliding one finger over the label as in almost a fond gesture.

 "This is the best Bordeaux I could get in Paris and I would be honored to share it with you.." When he turned, his eyebrow leaped, up indicating 'Glasses?' and a smirk accompanied the simple request.

And while Aramis moved to the small kitchen stand in the corner of the place, Athos began to undress from his soaked clothing without second thought. Like, he was following orders, or more like Aramis' demands which he had voiced towards him. It was pleasantly warm in the room with it being a cool summer's night  and Athos felt relieved as he peeled himself from the sticky damp leather. Boots first then coat and finally his linen shirt.. and when Athos was bare chested one thing was unobtrusively missing in place, where it normally belonged: The silver locket around the man's neck and hanging down over his heart normally, was gone.

Athos had not have enough money on him when he had spoken to the sales woman. She demanded much for the wine, more than the generous pile of coins in his hands - and Athos knew it was worth every livre, but still…

In the end, he had agreed to the deal. Only reluctant and with a tremble to his hands as he pulled the locket over his head and letting it fall into the woman's outstretched hand. A promise to come back and pay the ransom for the good later, mumbled in a low and husky voice.

Though Athos couldn't deny that he felt remarkably lighter without the token around his neck..

 

"You really are too good to me. Going through all this trouble." Aramis told Athos, turning his back to grab two glasses from his shelf. "If anyone should make amends, it should be me. I've known you long enough to know you don't want to hear any of this, but I truly am sorry."

When he sneaked a glance over, Aramis found himself distracted by the ripple of muscles in Athos' back as the other took off his shirt and hurriedly turned back to the shelf in front of him.

It took Aramis a moment longer to locate something that might function as a flower vase. He was't normally the one receiving flowers, so there wasn't really anything like a vase in his possession. Any other time, he might have convinced his land-lady to let him borrow one, but it was the middle of the night and Athos had made himself comfortable on Aramis' bed. He was also still very much shirtless, so it was really not the time to just up and leave. In the end, Aramis unearthed an old wine decanter that would do. It felt strangely appropriate too, given just who he had received the flower from. Aramis placed the rose carefully down on the windowsill, and, that done, took the glasses over to where Athos was lounging on the bed in nothing but his leathers.

 The two glasses joined the bottle of truly excellent vintage, before Aramis sank down onto the mattress next to Athos, snuggling closer. He placed a gentle kiss to Athos shoulder, then reached up a hand to push the still wet hair out of Athos' eyes.

 "Stay tonight", Aramis said, though it was clear to both of them that Athos didn't plan to go anywhere. More softly, he added, "Make love to me ...?"

 

For a beat, they regarded each other silently, the air around them heavy with the implications of the words. There was something different about the way Athos carried himself, Aramis thought, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Instead he settled for kissing Athos again, sweet and gentle and with just the barest hint of tongue. Humming contentedly when Athos wound his fingers into Aramis' hair and tugged.

Athos tilted his head, giving Aramis more room to devour his lips and tickle them with his tongue while he breathed in his lover's scent and kneaded the messy curls clutched between his fingers.

Maybe it was an answer to Aramis' candid words, as Athos regarded him through heavy-lidded eyes, sinking in the kiss. But before the light straining to the lacing of his remaining clothes would become too noticeable to Aramis. He withdrew and nodded to the set of bottle and glasses on the table, with a distracted smile.

"Shall we try this one out? I'd vouch it's to your liking..." And, with a smirk stretching Athos' lips he opened the bottle and poured them both a generous glas. It went without saying that Athos' liking would be more than satisfied tonight through the seductive mix of Aramis and the delicious vintage in his hand...

They both could hold their liquor, not a doubt, but it didn't mean that Athos wasn't feeling the effect of the sweet and palatable wine. Warming his insides and stretching the sensation of comfortable lightness  and an easily fogged mind with every sip. He also grew more sensitive to every incidental touching of Aramis' tight to him; or the light arm ghosting over his shoulder to dry his neck of the dripping wetness coming from his hair.

Athos eyed the other subtly, rapt in thought and the closeness itself...  

After a third oh so delightful glass he leaned over to Aramis, breath already heaving in deep puffs that gave him away, as he placed an open-mouthed kiss to the other's bristly and alcohol-heated cheek and bit the delicate earlobe.

His thighs pressed against Aramis' hip, letting him feel the arousal which had become noticeable stronger with every minute they shared this intimate moment. Athos' free hand fumbling with the lacing of Aramis' shirt already, opening it nimbly and he let a hand slip beneath the soft fabric and  touched the warm skin under it.

"Take this off, please... or let me.." Athos' words hung heavy and as a soft slur from the drinking. Every sense of the man was fixed on his lover, the hand holding the glass slightly shaking before he set it down the table and turned to Aramis again, pulling the shirt over his head with a decided tug.

 

Aramis let Athos push his shirt up, pressing back against Athos once the disturbing fabric is out of the way. He pressed a kiss to Athos jaw, slow and open-mouthed and with just the barest hint of teeth, reveling in the feel of skin on skin and Athos’ heady scent.

The wine, truly as excellent as Athos had claimed, sat abandoned on the table, as Aramis' hands found Athos shoulders and pushed until the other man sank into the mattress. He followed Athos down, settling between Athos' legs comfortably, a smirk on his lips. They were both slightly drunk, there hadn’t been much time to eat before, but Aramis knew the warmth settling in his stomach had little to do with wine and more with Athos’ heavy gaze on him. Drunk on skin and their feelings.

There was trust and loyalty and a steadiness to Athos that had never been a part of Marsac, and Aramis wondered how he’d ever thought of comparing the two of them at all. Aramis felt a shiver run down his spine, but when Athos pulled him in to capture his mouth in another kiss, Aramis realized it wasn’t the bad kind.

Aramis let his hands wander from where they had framed Athos face down his side, raising goosebumps in their wake.

Athos bucked his hips, and Aramis let out a moan when he found Athos arousal matching his own. His hands settled on Athos' hips on their own volition, but their motions were gentle and unhurried. There was no desperation or fear of discovery here, only the two of them wrapped around each other.

 

Athos became more erratic by the moment, wine and intimacy and Aramis‘ warm body pressed close to him doing their parts. The shirt was dropped carelessly beside the narrow bed-frame and Athos had his arms around Aramis’ lean and well-defined back in an instant, as he was pulling him down for another searing kiss.

His eyes were searching Aramis’ now, more than the countless times before and there was a different shine of affection glowing for his lover in them, if Aramis was just able to read it appropriately.

Athos let his hands slide over Aramis’ shoulder blades and down his sides, before they took a firm grip on the narrow hips of the other man and Athos bucked up, grinding against him, the moan falling from Aramis’ lips carefully absorbed by Athos kissing him again.

And when Athos’ hand eventually found to the small of Aramis’ back and finally settled on his firm arse, Athos looked up to him again. Eye clouded with a certain indication and desire. If the other would let him take up from where his approach had left off last time..

Though Athos seemed fairly uncertain, a question in his eyes as well as in his touch.

But when Aramis kissed him again, Athos’ hands found a way to dig under the tight seam of the underpants and clawed into Aramis’ bare backside…

A few hasty and somewhat nimble hands later and Athos slowly pulled the last remaining clothes downwards – exposing his lover to his thorough and lustful gaze.

There was need and open desire in the grey-blue eyes and the uncomfortable straining of his still damp breeches that made Athos ache into Aramis’ touch.

“Aramis..”, Athos breathed, hoarse, once there was no going back Athos wouldn’t be satisfied with anything other than to feel the other completely; even though the very thought seemed to throw him.

There was a moment of consideration, maybe even second thoughts.. but eventually Athos almost stilled and glanced up at Aramis in the barely lit room, as he was studying his face in detail.

"..do you have anything to.. you know, ease the progress...?" Athos words only a pressed whisper, counting to the red strains blooming on each of the man's cheeks as he spoke.

If the intent in Athos eyes hadn’t been clear enough, the fingers digging into his ass certainly were. Aramis let out a moan of pleasure at the prospect of what was to come. Hearing his name falling from Athos’ lips, it took Aramis a tremendous amount of willpower to pull back long enough to rummage around the small drawer placed near the bed.

He was rewarded with a small vial of oil he kept for just this purpose. Aramis gave Athos a victorious grin and leaned in to plant feather-like kisses against jaw and down his chest.

 “Are you sure about this?” Aramis asked, looking up through his lashes from where he was nuzzling the trail of hair that ran down Athos lower belly. “We don’t have to go all the way, if you don’t want to,” he added, hands settling on the fastening of Athos breeches.

 Judging by the exasperated look in Athos eyes, the exact opposite was the case. Athos’ hands joined Aramis’ own, where they were working on divesting Athos of his remaining clothes.

 Athos wiggled out of his leathers with an impatient growl, and Aramis laughed breathlessly until the touch of skin on skin turned the sound into a moan.

“Do you want to fuck me so badly?,” he asked, a whisper against Athos ear. The way Athos said his name combined with the tightening of fingers on his hip was probably answer enough. It was what he’d taken from their earlier couplings too, but it never hurt to make sure. This only left the question of how to do this. They’d have to move, unless, Aramis thought, Athos was willing to lie back and let Aramis do most of the work for the time being.

His mind made up, Aramis pushed Athos back into the mattress with a hand on his chest, while the other found the vial he had discarded only moment before. Pulling the stopper out with his teeth, Aramis let the oil slick his fingers. After he had put the vial aside, he rose up to his knees and leaned back. Meeting Athos’ eyes and holding his gaze, Aramis worked a first finger into his hole with a hiss.

Athos stared at the display. It was all he could manage for the first heavy and rustling intakes of air, until the breath hitched in his throat. Aramis was gorgeous in his being, just as he was, but this... had just taken Athos' breath away, literally.

His eyes ghosted over his lover's face, attentive to every wince or the expression of pure concentration.. and Athos found it so endearing, it sent hot waves straight into his groin.

Aramis was doing this for him.. though he didn't have to, Athos was sure he could gather himself as much as being of assistance and make it good for the other.

 "Let me...", came the breathless murmur from the man a moment past, as he pushed himself on his elbow again, reaching for the vial. ".. please."

And really, Aramis was listening to him, showing a warm and somewhat naughty smirk as he fell into Athos' touch. And Athos pulled him close to his chest, his hands sliding down Aramis' back and finally reaching his arse.  

The first attempts came warily, Athos spilling his fingers with the oil and then reached between his lover's legs, dipping into the hole… and when Aramis did not flinch - and Athos was watching his face very closely - he pushed his first finger in.

Athos felt his mind numb at the sensation of clenched muscle and heat around him in an instant, but he urged himself to go on with it. He made a game of his touching, drawing back out at some point, reaching for Aramis' testicles and cock as well, before he returned to spreading him open again...

Athos' breath came in short puffs with the last bit of concentration and restraint he could muster, soon pushing a second finger in, as he felt Aramis relax around him and actually pushing back down on his hand.

He wasn't so much aware of what he was doing, just following an impulse.. and Aramis seemed to dwell on in, his head bent down to his chest in concentration and Athos' could hear him panting.. oh so tempting to push deeper and probe thoroughly.

"Relax..", Athos hushed his lover with a soft and warm vibe to his tone, his second hand stroking continually over Aramis' hip and eventually - oil slick - closed around Aramis' cock again.. not to tease and coax but to give pleasure.

The way Aramis reacted to his push of fingers - counting three now - made Athos' breath go in a rasp panting. His hips aching up unwittingly and his own cock responding to the very image of them being in this position; Aramis hovering over him hot and slick and spread open just for him.. And soon ready for more than just fingers.  

Athos withdrew his fingers, when Aramis looked up, their eyes meeting almost solemnly.

 

The sudden absence of Athos’ fingers left Aramis feeling strangely empty. The low whine that escaped him, however, was soon swallowed by Athos crashing their lips together once more. Aramis was almost painfully hard, hips moving in small, jerky motions against Athos.

“Athos, please, I need ...” Aramis whispered against Athos kiss swollen lips, watching the other man’s eyes darken with lust. “Want to feel you in me.”

Hearing the words, any doubts Athos may have had seemed to be completely discarded in favour of the feelings of heat and passion between them. Aramis wound his hand, still slick with oil, around Athos’ cock, stroking up and down the length slowly and drawing the most exquisite noises out of the other.

Athos’ fingers tightened on Aramis’ hips, drawing him in until Athos’ erection slid between the cheeks of his ass. Aramis could feel his own features slacken, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut as he panted, open-mouthed, in anticipation of what was to come.

Athos hands were still on his hips, steadying him and drawing small, soothing circles into his skin as Aramis was guiding Athos’ erection between his spread legs.

Aramis let out a gasp when the head of Athos’ cock breached him, and forced himself to keep his eyes open so he could see Athos’ face. Athos, with his hair plastered to his forehead and chest heaving, was trembling with the effort not to move his hips and bury himself to the hilt.

The sight took Aramis breath away for a moment. Then, he lowered himself down slowly, taking all of Athos in one smooth movement, a sigh leaving his lips.

Athos drew in an audible breath as Aramis sheathed himself around him, and held it, fighting the impulse to buck his hips up and thrust just yet.

He gave Aramis a moment to adjust himself and get used to the strange feeling while Athos watched him affectionately from below heavy eyelids.

His hands closed around Aramis’ hips and keeping him in place considerately – but besides that, he let Aramis take the lead over the rhythm and pace they were setting, drawing unintentional moans of pleasure from the man, every time there was an unexpected slide or press.

He liked that Aramis was in charge like this, riding him and pressing down on him as he was taking him deep or tease the sensitive tip of his head the other moment.. When his tights would flex beside Athos’ knees, pushing himself up again for the moment of a short breath.  

Sheathing himself fully on Athos’ cock took Aramis breath away, but it was nothing compared to the feeling when Athos started to move, meeting him halfway with every snap of his hips. Athos, with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, was a sight that Aramis would never get tired of seeing.

The difference between Athos normally so composed exterior and the man now panting with lust was stark. And Aramis felt a thrill at the knowledge that he had been the one to put this look on Athos face. To be the only one to share this with Athos.

“God, Athos. Feels so good, love,” voice lilting in a mix of French and Spanish. The hand still on Aramis hip tightened, still steady guiding but gentle, letting Aramis dictate the pace.

Athos nearly lost himself in the constant stream of muffled gasps and moans, Aramis’ vocal contribution a sweet ring to his ears which made him even more hard inside the other.

Athos let his head fall back into the sheets with a muffled grunt as Aramis sunk down on him again. He tucked his legs up and supported the other with his knees, finally giving the first tentatively thrusts – and from then on, Athos was unable to stop himself.

Soon he was rolling his hips or bucking up, faster and faster in his tact, to meet Aramis’ thrusts down on him.

His hand frantically felt for Aramis’ cock throbbing heavy against his stomach and already leaking generously on him, and his closed his calloused fingers around the slick length for a second time, welcoming Aramis as the other leaned down for a searing kiss…

Aramis knew he wasn’t going to last long. Not with Athos filling him, hard and hot and perfect.  Certainly not when Athos’ hand wrapped around his cock. Aramis hips stuttered forward, breaking the rhythm they had created, and he used the opportunity to steal another kiss.

“Close,” he said, a breathless whisper against Athos lips, legs trembling with the strain of movement as their bodies met ever faster.

Not that Aramis would mind being fucked through his own release. Even if he tended to get rather noisy by that point. Not that Athos seemed to mind, if the hungry look in his eyes was anything to go by.

It was almost teasingly when Athos' fingers slid away from Aramis' needing cock. But he wanted the other to last ... at least for a little while longer. Like it had been with their very first time, Athos seemed to need a lot of stimulation to let himself be pushed over the edge.

Now he was playing this stamina wisely to pleasure Aramis - or rather them both - for a bit longer... His lips caught his lover's in an encouraging kiss, but the small bite on Aramis' lower lip was pure tease.

Athos though was pretty aware to the growing trembling in Aramis' legs; at this rate he would not last much longer and Athos smiled into the kiss with a low and soothing hum.

Then he pushed himself to his forearms, legs flattening out and before Aramis knew it he found himself pushed back into the mattress, gently but with a firm hand. Though their intimate contact broke for the duration of a few seconds, Athos was up and leaning over Aramis the very next again and guiding himself between Aramis' legs and the cleft of his buttocks.

He pushed  in again with one fluid stroke and a stuttering breath.

Aramis' eyes were wide and dark as they stared up to him and Athos granted himself but a moment to watch the beautiful image. The dark curls were sticking to the other's forehead and the red strains across the slightly tanned cheek bones seemed to burn for him.

Their rhythm faltered when Athos pushed and Aramis found himself on his back. But before he can so much as make a noise of protest at the loss, Athos is back in him, entering with one smooth, toe-curling trust that filled him up hot and full and so, so good.

A few slow and dedicated deep strokes joined them again, up to the hilt and Athos bent down on his lover with a low grunt., Shifting his weight from the hands beside Aramis' head to his forearms and leaning in closer, until he covered almost every spot of Aramis' body with bare skin..

His face nuzzled into the tousled and sweat-slick curls of his lover's hair as he breathed in his scent mingled with the musk of his arousal.

Like this, Athos set up a level but nevertheless fierce rhythm, taking Aramis in long and filling thrusts that made them both gasp for air and whimper under the sensation of the new angle.

They were pressed flush against each other, creating delicious friction when Athos set a steady  pace, drawing a groan from Aramis with every thrust.

Aramis hooked his leg around Athos to bring the other closer still, canting his hips and meeting Athos every move. His hands found their way to Athos shoulder as their rhythm got frantic. Leaving marks down Athos’ back in their scramble for purchase.

Athos bent him further, almost in half, and hit the spot inside him that made Aramis see stars with every snap of his hips. Aramis cried out, surprised at his own reaction. A litany of Athos and yes and please and more falling from his lips against the backdrop of the noise of skin against skin. He turned his head to smother his next sound in the fold of the sheets, only to find Athos hand winding into his hair pulling him into a sloppy kiss instead.

He could feel the pressure of Athos cock inside him, feel his release building up...

Athos still all but clung to his lover, panting and groaning into his ear, a stream of uncontrolled sounds which nearly let the low words slip off. "Now you can come..I'm close.."

Come for me, Athos told him, and Aramis did, Athos name spilling from his lips as his back arched off of the bed as his release paints his stomach.

Athos fucked him through it, thrusts brutal as Aramis clamps tightly around him, and Aramis mewled. The hand in his hair slides around to cup his face, fingers gentle as Aramis lay trembling with the aftershocks of his release.

 

Athos rammed into Aramis when the hot tightness clenched around him in the sweetest temptation to lure him over the edge too.. a faint and feral groan coming from deep down his chest.

He gives Aramis all he has, everything he has left to offer and when he feels Aramis spilling between their closely pressed bodies, Athos know he needs just a few more thrusts. His fingers traced and cupped the outline of Aramis fine jaw, before they clawed once more into his hair.

Athos' head sunk back into the curve of Aramis' neck, biting down on the salty skin as the man buried his face in the sheets and the soft spot right beneath his lover's earlobe.

The other is hot and awaiting under and around him - and Athos just let himself fall into the feeling of warmth and trust and release to the coiled turmoil in his gut.

A few more rocking thrusts and his hips jerked against Aramis', giving in to the wave of heat rushing through him as he spent himself deep inside his lover, filing him hot and sticky... adding to the mark from his teeth on Aramis' neck, which will probably stay visibly as well.

A long and breathy groan is the only noise coming from Athos, the moment he reaches orgasm but he clings to Aramis through the aftershocks; his eyes carefully squeezed shut.

It seems to take them forever to get their breath back and level and neither of them dares to interrupt the moment with words. To Athos as least, it still felt slightly unreal. But Aramis is a warm and vivid impression of a wasted beauty beneath him; all shaky limbs and tousled state of hair and Athos gave him a soft and almost apologetic kiss to the forehead. Before he carefully drew out and came to lay beside Aramis.

One arm placed around Aramis' shoulders, Athos was looking for body contact, shyly, as his eyes drifted everywhere but avoiding his lover's gaze. Instead he nuzzled his face against Aramis' temple again, the urge to say something almost painfully weighing on him ..

But Athos had no words. He was at a complete loss, in fact.

This was not mere shagging - they had made love. Athos had been fulfilling Aramis' request more than willingly, but he was still so alien to the strong feeling coiling in his chest, which had hurt him once so fatally and left him helpless now.

But when he lifted his head and let their eyes meet, finally, Aramis' look told him the answer to unspoken words. _I know._ Apparently it was visible in Athos' eyes that with Aramis, it was different, that he in fact loved the man beside him.

With all his devoted heart. A love for his brothers, which would include Porthos and d'Artagnan as well but was not inferior to the love for a woman...

 

In the aftermath of their release, Aramis was floating in a warm, content, loose-limbed haze. Athos drew him in with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Aramis snuggled closer with a contented hum.

There was no need for words between them, not now. Athos had never been one for verbal declarations of love, but his action spoke louder than any of the fancy words Aramis might have used. And for now,  Aramis was happy to soak in Athos' calm presence, tracing nonsense patterns where his hand rested on Athos' chest.

Then Athos leaned in and brushed a kiss against his forehead, and Aramis fell in love all over again.

It was only reluctantly that Aramis slipped free of Athos' hold, and he hurried to clean them up as best as he could  before rejoining the other in bed. Settling back into Athos' embrace like he had always belonged there.

Once they had comfortably rearranged themselves in a tangle of limbs and blankets, it wasn't long before the sound of Athos' steady heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

 

Maybe they better had locked the door, though. As the early visitor the next morning would make painfully obvious…


	11. Chapter 11

After he had spent the majority alternatively tossing and turning or falling into a fitful sleep filled with upsetting dreams, Porthos was grateful when the first light of day gave him an excuse to get up.

It did nothing to stop his mind from the relentless state of worry that had taken hold as of late, as he sat up with a groan. He thought of Aramis' haunted look and Athos' strange behaviour where the other was concerned, and felt an unhappy twinge in his chest.

The feeling only intensified when he visited Athos' lodgings to check on the other and found no one present. Porthos pushed all thoughts of drunken accidents and back alley stabbings out of his mind viciously as he made his way back through the streets of Paris.

When eventually he pushed the unlocked door to Aramis' apartment open, to find a sleeping Aramis wrapped around Athos, Porthos found he might have prefered his initial thought.

At the sound of his hasty entrance, Athos startled awake, eyes wild before they settled on Porthos and he froze. Aramis made an unhappy noise and burrowed further into Athos side, but didn't wake.

 

Athos stared at Porthos in utter horror and the friend gave the stare back in baffled disbelief, shifting awkwardly in the doorway. Maybe it was Athos' face making things even worse but he could not find the strength the compose himself quick enough to let it seem like a casual.. happening.

No single reason on earth would warrant them, Aramis and him, to sleep entwined beside each other, stark naked, other than the obvious.

And Porthos was no fool.

Athos sighed and resisted the urge to let himself fall backwards to the bed again, defeated. So that was it, they had been discovered.

Whatever Porthos would make of it.. their friend didn't reserve being lied to the face straight, not after what he had witnessed anyways...

"Will you at least shut the damn door!", Athos hissed, voice carefully shushed to prevent Aramis from waking up just yet. Athos found it was more than enough with the two of them freaking as it was right now..

Porthos had the wits (or the guts..) to step inside the room instead of backing off to the hallway again and closed the door attentively behind him - still not uttering one single word.

"Look..", Athos started, pushing himself upright a little, only to find the sheet sliding further down and betraying the state of his body, that was still pressed closely to the warm skin near him. "I better not", Porthos retorted and looked to the ceiling pointedly, admiring the stucco of the rooms.

Athos groaned, already feeling an unpleasant pounding stir up behind his temples. "Porthos this is... damn it, fine. I admit, it's exactly what it looks like and I have no words.."

"Guessed as much", Porthos mumbled back, finally turning his head and looking to his friend again. Athos' face was a question and as it slightly began to dawn on him, that Porthos in fact had been up to them all along, the figure beside him in the bed shifted – letting Athos panick again.

 

Aramis wasn’t usually a heavy sleeper.

On the contrary, years of soldiering and sneaking in and out of bedrooms meant he was rather used to rise early and wake at the slightest of sounds. It had certainly saved his neck more times than he liked to admit. It was proof, then, of just how emotionally exhausting the last few days had truly been that he had slept as long as he had.

Yet more, it was a testament to the trust he had in Athos to watch his back and keep him safe.

And Porthos, for that matter. Which might have been why the sound of both of his friends’ voices arguing in hushed tones didn’t alarm him nearly as much as it should have. After their lovemaking and with Athos a steady presence pressed against his side, alarm was really not one of the feelings Aramis was currently experiencing.

He let out a breath and tried to burrow deeper into the warmth of Athos body when the gravity of the situation actually registered and froze.

When he cracked open an eye, he found Athos and Porthos engaged in a staring match. Aramis couldn’t see Athos’ face from his position, but he could feel the tension radiating off of him.

Porthos for once, remained totally unhelpful. He just raised a meaningful eyebrow. "I'd offer to share breakfast with you guys but wouldn't that be your duty now, Athos?" His face saying _if you know what I'm referring to,_ with side-glance to Aramis and in this moment, Athos wanted to jump out of the bed and punch him in the face - naked or not.

More than a little awake now and watching, Aramis found himself completely unable to read the expression on Porthos’ face. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there was no mistaking the effect finding his two best friend naked had on other parts of the big man’s anatomy.

Or maybe that was just Athos, Aramis thought, when he found his own form still mostly covered in blankets. There probably wasn’t any way this could get any more awkward, Aramis decided, but that was before he actually opened his mouth.

“Breakfast sounds nice,” he mumbled into the awkward silence that had settled over the room. Apparently, being an early riser didn’t mean he was particularly eloquent in the morning.

 

In this moment, Aramis could feel a foot kicking his shin, mostly inconspicuous but aimed. Athos ran a hand over his face and looked to Porthos, still shielding Aramis from their friend's sight with his body.   
However, meanwhile, Porthos had spotted the rose in its 'vase' and Athos could see the dark eyes narrow in his process of thinking.. and snapping to  conclusion. Porthos had always been one for wearing his heart on his sleeve and he was, in fact, incredibly lousy when it came to hiding emotions. Not the least point Athos adored him for, that was.  
  
But right now Porthos seemed so thrown, if not overwhelmed with the situation, Athos almost pittied him. The man screwed up his nose, the room was just reeking of sex and it had in fact a certain effect to Porthos' loins... as well as seeing the two of them in bed together and Athos' heaving bare chest.   
  
There was a certain sting to Porthos' heart, as he snorted, unable to read the sensation. Or maybe he pushed it aside. Instead he straightened his stand and looked to Athos again, trying to look as casual as possible.

"Right, so thats a 'yes' to breakfast then? I can get something from the kitchen downstairs.... if you two decide on staying where you are-"  
  
"No, no it's alright. We're coming." Athos' voice was pressed and cut Porthos off mid-sentence almost with a hysterical edge to it. He pushed the sheets aside and sat up, deciding it was no use. This was ridiculous and they could not be doing this to Porthos.. at least, he would not.  


Athos was either just not aware of Porthos' face heating up or was masterful ignoring it to the point, when the friend turned away from him and stepped to the window to watch the street below. Though now, his gaze kept sliding to the rose in the bottle.

Athos sighed inaudibly, missreading the signs.  
  
In silence, Athos collected his clothes from the chair near the table and threw Aramis' stuff purposefully at the bulge under the blanket, containing the other.

"Get up Aramis, we're on duty in about an hour."

  
  
Porthos finally turned back to them, when Athos was busy fastening the lacing on his breeches and frowned. "Maybe you guys should take a washing before that, just.. saying..." The musketeer cut off mid-sentence and pulled a face, flushed again.   


Oh, how Athos loved when Porthos did talking without thinking first, it was awkward at best but at it was also the most honest opinion, a man could get probably.  
Athos cleared his throat and proceed in his dressing cautiously. "Right.."

Aramis got up only reluctantly, pulling the blankets with him. Even if it meant he would have to face Porthos’ clearly unhappy look. Aramis wound the blankets around himself in the approximation of a robe, and hunted for his wash basin.

  
“Right,” Porthos said, seeming to shake himself out of his musings. “I should probably wait outside.” Despite his words, he remained where he stood, the beginnings of a frown on his face. Aramis, having finished his quick wash and putting some clothes on, had the urge to reach out and soothe the other’s discomfort. When he made to do just that, however, Porthos moved back and out of the way.

Aramis bit his lip in worry.

  
“Hurry it up before we’ll end up on guard duty with an empty stomach,” Porthos said, not looking either of them in the eye. Aramis grimaced at the words. A stolen look in his lover’s direction told him Athos was feeling much the same.

A talk was definitely in order. But between Porthos hasty retreat and Athos’ tense silence, Aramis found himself at a loss on who to comfort.

Porthos was his best friend, but Athos was the man he loved more than a brother.

  
Though, before Aramis could make up his mind, Porthos had already stepped outside the room. Which left Aramis with Athos.

“Hey,” Aramis called softly, noting the tension in the set of Athos’ shoulders. Athos didn’t turn, didn’t look at him, and instead focused on viciously scrubbing himself clean.

  
“Hey,” Aramis said again, hand coming to rest on the other man’s elbow lightly, his touch questioning but not demanding. Athos’ sighed, and turned to face him.

“Are you going to be okay?” Aramis asked, feeling something tighten in his chest when the only answer he got was a helpless shrug of shoulders.

“It could be worse,” he offered. Athos answering frown clearly said that things could be better, too.

“I’ll talk to him. He will understand, you know he will. This is Porthos, after all. Just give him a bit of time.” Aramis tried to convince even himself with those words, but after the way Porthos had moved away from his touch earlier, he wasn’t as convinced as he pretended to be.

“It’ll be okay,” Aramis finally said, trying to reassure both of them, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Athos’ mouth. Athos conceded with a tired sigh, and Aramis heart went out to his lover.

 

* * *

 

  
When they joined Porthos outside a moment later, the tall musketeer seemed to have a better grip on his emotions, but there was still a hint of raised colour on his cheeks and his voice lacked its usual joviality.

As they made their way to the garrison, Athos fell back and into step with Aramis, letting Porthos lead the way. Just moments ago, they had felt the occassional glance back at them rather constantly, but with d'Artagnan joining them round the next corner, they might just have a minute.

  
Athos' voice was surpressed, his eyes darting over Aramis from below the brim of his hat. "You know if we are found out, we're presumably going to be expelled from duty- for good." Athos tiled his head, his raised eyebrow indicating _sodomy?_ and he didn't say more, because Aramis was as aware as him that they were dependent on Porthos' goodwill from the moment forth.  
  
But this was Porthos.

So Athos' posture and his strode indicated no fear for them to be disclosed as they reached the yard. The only thing worrying him was Porthos' reaction as a friend. And Athos could not help the gnawing feeling of guilt rumble in his intestines.  
  
During the morning report and the weaponry inspection afterwards, Athos could feel the look of Porthos laying on them every other minute. Athos was used to being watched - and judged silently for that matter - but with Porthos it just.. it did not only feel painfully wrong but truly bothered him.   
But every time, when Athos lifted his gaze and tried to make eye contact with the friend, Porthos casually would turn his head and take the chance away.   
  
It left Athos frustrated and brooding. Silent he readied his pistols and followed d'Artagnan out the weaponry, leaving Porthos with Aramis alone for a moment.   
Maybe he did it on purpose, maybe he sensed that Aramis would have the far better approach to their friend. And when he stepped out into the sun of bright daylight, he found d'Artagnan looking at him with eyes squeezed against the brightness but regarding him thoroughly.   
  
"You really like Aramis, don't you, Athos?" d'Artagnans voice was quiet and unusually stern. He let Athos pass without a word and followed the other man over into the shade of the main building and cose to the well.

Athos did not answer just yet, as he heaved the bucket with water from the ground and set it on the table top. Only then found his eyes those of the Gascon.   
"Careful where you're treading your steps, d'Artagnan", he warned and spashed two hand-full of the cold water into his face. The flash of a memory of last night's events emerged before his mind’s eye and Athos was almost embarrased for d'Artagnan's presence.   
  
Though, the younger just blinked in surprise.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I mean.. everybody can see that you're close. You and Aramis- and Porthos. You know that people 'round the garrison are calling you the three Inseparables." d'Artgnan's face broke into a wide grin. "Probably for a reason."

  
For a moment Athos was dumbstruck, having expected a completely different course of action d'Artagnan would try to follow, but his genuine smile even let the older man’s lips curl upright.

"I fear I'm not so much aware of people's talking. Never been one for gossip", he clapped d'Artagnan on the shoulder, offering the bucket to him, "but if you say so.."  
  
And then they waited for the other two - Athos falling silent again, with a bemused expression to his face and d'Artagnan with words tickling his mouth, which were not voiced loudly, as he watched his friend and mentor.

 

* * *

 

  
"So ...," Aramis started, once he found himself alone with Porthos. Judging by the sudden stillness and the set of his shoulders, Porthos had dreaded the moment almost as much as Aramis had. "About what you saw between Athos and I this morning.."  
  
"You sleeping with him, you mean," Porthos said, bluntly. "And it wasn't just this morning either, was it. You've been acting strangely ever since that mission near the Spanish border."   
  
It wasn't really a question, but Aramis answered him anyway. Porthos was his friend; he deserved to know the truth. "The thought had been there before, but we din't really act on it until after," he confirmed.  
  
The two of them rarely fought. Not beyond the fear and adrenaline fueled arguments,  whenever one of them was injured and for the most part, not about anything of importance. And even then, the other was usually forgiven before the day was out. 

The only issues they had ever seriously fought about was Aramis’ choice in bed partners. That, and Athos.

It had been mostly in relation to the man’s lack of self-preservation, his drinking habit and if anything was to be done about it. Porthos was fiercely loyal to Athos, had been from the beginning, but he respected the older man too much to meddle even when meddling was definitely in order. Aramis himself, obviously, had no such qualms.  
  
"Just ... promise you won't hurt ‘im", Porthos said quietly, his face serious.  
  
"I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't", Aramis answered, disbelief clouding his voice.  
  
“Not deliberately, no,” Porthos agreed, and Aramis winced. “I probably deserved that, don’t I?” he said, keeping his voice light in hopes of disguising the hurt he felt at the words.   
  
“Yes. No, I mean, I don't know”, Porthos said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “It's just, your relationships don't usually end all that well."  
  
“It’s okay,” Aramis told him “It's the truth, and besides, I have no right to be angry with you. Not only have you kept our secret, but our friendship as well. And that is already more than most would have done. I’m sorry we’ve put you in this situation. I can understand that you are upset.”  
  
Porthos made a sound of protest, but they both knew the words were true. Sometimes, Porthos was too easy to read for his own good.   
  
“Just … don’t be angry with Athos. You know how he worries."  
  
“I’m not angry with either of you. Just … surprised, I guess. Taking some time to get used to the thought, is all”,  Porthos said, though he didn’t sound particularly convinced.

But it was a start, and Porthos had said he’d try, which was already far more than Aramis could ask for.   
  
"Thank you," Aramis told the other man, gratitude clear on his face. When Aramis reached for Porthos' arm this time, the other didn't pull away.   
  
"Well, yeah. Besides, I can’t just leave you two idiots. You'd be dead before nightfall", Porthos said, but the accompanying smile didn't reach the man’s eyes.

With an awkward gesture, he added; “You might want to, you know, cover that up." In answer, Aramis reached for his neck, running his fingers over the mark Athos had left the night before, and felt heat rising to his cheeks.   
  
Thankfully, Porthos took pity on the both of them and steered them into the direction of the courtyard. From across the yard, Athos raised a questioning eyebrow, and Aramis answered with a shrug that said they'd have to wait and see…

 

Athos sighed with relief when Porthos and Aramis finally showed up from the amory. Not only had it been a too long while, for his liking and to be casual, and secondly d'Artagnan was treading on his nerve with his pacing, as they waited for their friends…  
The boy had apparently spent the night in Constance’s company, so maybe that was just that and his mind and the rather absent grin truly belonged somewhere else... but still Athos could not get over the strange ring the words had in his ears..  
  
When Aramis and Porthos reached them, Athos gave a firm nod, before they departed for their patrol in the streets.

 

* * *

  
  
The first hours past uneventful, at least in musketeer standards: They caught a few pickpockets - in the act - and later had to jump and part two youngsters from each other, who had gotten into a brawl over trifles and in the heat drawn knives of nicked steel.

One of them was bleeding yet, from a cut to his upper arm and people watched them,  shaking their heads.

If this was to be their following generation, Athos mused, things would not turn for the better in the near future of France’s capital.   
When the argument was settled and Porthos spoke to one of the boys in private, voice hushed and sternly, both of them glancing up to the big man in awe, Athos carefully let his glance wander across the scenary before he strode over to Aramis.   
A gentle hand squeezed the leather on the man’s shoulder pad. But before becoming any suspicious, the hand was gone again.

They both watched Porthos and the boys, while d'Artagnan was still busy calming the bystanders. One elderly woman nearly threatened him with a stick and Athos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.   
They had not exactly have that much sleep, due to their early visitor and last night's _actions._  

And Athos could not hold his scattered thoughts together, even if he tried to focus very hard on it.   
The process of overthinking had taken over exactly the moment, Porthos had given him _that_ look. To be honest, Athos did not care about what most people thought. Not in general and not concerning himself.

But he valued Porthos' opinion. His very perspective on everything Athos did, even if then, the other almost never interfered.   
Though in this matter, it gave Athos a headache. Porthos' face said everything without actually saying anything at all and for the first time, Athos came by a faint impression of what Porthos and Aramis had to deal concerning himself..   
  
Porthos let go of the boy's shoulder eventually and trotted over to his friends, his face brooding and troubled.

"That lad, he's from the court of miracles... hopefully not related, but I recognized his accent."

Porthos, despite his massive appearance seemed to have sagged a few inches and Athos felt true sentiment tug at his heart. Porthos’ past was still gnawing on him, just once in a while it became visible.

Athos placed a hand on Porthos' arm - lips parted to speak words of encouragement - when he found the other staring at the spot where he was touching him.  
  
Athos had enough control to not let the situation slip into real awkwardness, but it was close. He gave but a short pat to the leather, before he drew his hand back to himself. Ignoring the bitter taste on his tongue.

What in Heaven was wrong with Porthos?

To the confusion and the worry came anger. Athos tried to fight it down resolutely, as they moved to find something for dinner...

As the hours went on, the streets emptied marginally, as people of all walks of life turned in for a meal. Though, the four friends eventually managed to secure a table in one of the many taverns of Paris. What would normally have been a jovial affair, turned into silence and awkward glances, as soon as Porthos settled down next to d’Artagnan instead of taking his usual place by Aramis’ side.

Athos had switched his worry for badly concealed anger and Porthos was restless and unhappy despite his earlier words. d'Artagnan was, apparently, blessedly obvious still. At least Aramis hoped he was. It wouldn’t do good to drag even more people into this mess they had created already.

  
Aramis felt like weeping, to be honest. For years, the three of them had weathered storm after storm together, through injuries and despair and hardships. And now it was threatening to all fall apart because Aramis pushed and pulled and meddled and had gotten involved. Again.

  
He should have known better, after Marsac.

He wanted to apologize to Athos for encouraging the other to act on his feelings and starting this whole situation. And he felt like begging Porthos' forgiveness for creating this rift between them -  but Porthos would not look at him.

Instead, he snuck glances at Athos whenever the other man wasn’t paying attention.

Aramis remembered the look on Porthos’ face when Athos had leaned closer, a hand on his arm, after they had broken up the fight. He remembered how Porthos’ start at  Athos’ hand touching him, like it was something to be treasured, and the open devotion Porthos had always shown Athos.

Aramis thought back of the morning, Porthos had found them in bed, the color high on his cheeks and the beginnings of arousal evident to his breeches… It couldn’t be. Porthos couldn’t feel more towards Athos than friendship.

Or could he?

If Aramis was right, well that would explain quite a few things. Like the way he was avoiding their eyes and how he had insisted he wasn’t angry… because he hadn’t been.

Porthos, as a matter of fact, was unhappy to see the man he had feelings for find happiness with somebody else.

He could be wrong about this, Aramis thought, but if he wasn’t … He had no idea how he should feel. Or what to do about it.

Athos meanwhile, ate in silence, watching each of them from time to time with a glance from beneath his hat. 

The only man in a fair mood around their table in the yard seemed to be young d'Artagnan. He wasn't giving a word, but following the saying _the gentleman never tells_ the expression on the boy’s face was dreamy and bore that stupid grin which they had only seen on him in Constance's presence.   
Athos huffed to himself. If only all love affairs were so easily sorted out.. Nobody in Paris had seconds thought when it came to starting an affair with a married woman (or man), but their little.. issue seemed to be one of different sorts.  
  
How painfully right Athos in fact was, they would learn a little time later...

 

* * *

  
   
Not to anyone’s favour, a bunch of Red Guards were taking their rations exactly in the same inn, in which the musketeers had settled for lunch break. The men had occupied a table nearby and their captain - a snide looking bloke with dark, straggly hair going by the name Guillaume - made no pretence of his obvious resentment for their little group of musketeers, and such to be.

Above all, his eyes were fixed on Athos and they slid over to Aramis far too often to be casual.  
  
There was murmuring and the first rude gestures in their direction, so Athos lowered his head to shield most of it with the brim of his hat.

He was not easily mocked, in fact it took nearly a blade to his throat to coax a reaction out of him to an obvious thread. Teasing did nothing to him, as little as people's opinions did.  
  
.. but then Guillaume stood, clearly spurred on by his men and Athos would wager, he had watched some coins being placed on the table for a bet. The man came their direction and any conversation at their table died down.   
  
"G'day, gentlemen", Guillaume started, tiping his hat in mocking mimicry of the popular musketeer gesture of greeting.  Porthos stopped munching, eyes narrowed and his posture seemed to be growing in height, even while he remained seated.

d'Artagnan blinked as he had recognized the changing in his friend’s behaviour and turned to the Red Guard.  
  
Even Aramis tightened his grip around the knife he had been slicing cheese with a moment ago, while Athos just fixated the newcomer with a blank expression.

"Guillaume" , he greeted calmy but without a tone of sympathy in his voice.  
  
"Ah Athos, how is you?" the Red Guard replied,  a slight snarl to his words. And in this moment Athos knew, he was aiming for trouble..

They exchanged quick looks, one or two hands casually finding the pommel of a sword, but nothing was drawn yet. After al,l starting a fight on open streets was not tolerated by authorities and would get them into arrest for a day or two.  
  
Surely nothing which was worth giving in to the tickle in their hands to smash in a few unpleasant faces.  
Guillaume was quite aware of that, though with the eyes of his men set on his back  - a fact which made most men reckless and pushed their nerves to something incredibly stupid to prove themselves in from of others...

  
 "Heard you guys found a new way of spending the nights, other than on the ground of a wine bottle, eh Athos?"  
  
Guillaume laughed and Athos' face was cast in stone as he regarded the other, waiting..

"I have no idea what you're referring to… And besides that, it would be neither your business nor our pleasure to have this conversation." He smiled, ice cold and looked back on his plate - appetite pretty much vanished. But Guillaume would just have taken everything as fuel to his intent in this moment - Athos realized it too late.

  
"Didn't know your Musketeer's pay was so lousy, you can't affort the cheapest whore on the streets. But that doesn't seem to bother you much, didn't know you guys were into the weird crap. Eh yuck, just.. please stay away from _my_ men, okay?"  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath at their table, unknown who had let is loose. Porthos was halfway up his seat already, carefully held down by Aramis.

Athos sat stony, his features slack in horror and d'artagnan blinked between his friends and the Red Guard... brows drawn to a frown, when it started dawning on him.   
"Wait.. you're not saying-", d'Artagnan started, but Athos cut him off mid-sentence with a low and mumbled 'Don't' and a warning glance.   
  
Guillaume laughed snidely. " The boy got it just right, exactly what I'm saying: you filthy bumfuckers should be expelled from the court. Or even better: put to rot in a cell!"

He spat to their feet.

  
"You take that back! That's scurrility!" D'Artagnan  jumped, and one of Athos' glove- clad hands clawed into his shirt. Hi knuckes were white and slightly trembling, but he forced the younger back on the bench and gritted his teeth.

"Leave it.. he's just trying to provoke us with his talking." His eyes darted to Aramis, automatically, the expression of horror turning into a plea for forgiveness.

Aramis caught Athos' gaze and returned it steadily. He hoped to convey with his eyes what he couldn't say aloud - telling Athos that this was not his fault and that there's nothing to forgive.

Despite his silent efforts to reassure his lover, he felt anger burning through him.The hand that wasn't keeping Porthos in his seat fisted tightly enough to leave crescent shaped marks.

  
Aramis took barely offence at insults to his own person, but when the words were aimed at one of his friends, the matter was a different one entirely. Not to mention that if they found enough people to believe this accusations -  being expelled from court and thrown into jail would be the very least of their worries.

Guillaume soon realized, he would not get a reaction out of them. His friends, who were no doubt been ravenous for a fight, turned their foul temper against their leader now  as no action followed words.

But before the group of Red Guards could come up with more creative ways to pick a fight, Athos shot his friends a look. Porthos made an unhappy sound, and Aramis silently agreed. He didn't like running from a fight either.

The incredulous look on the guard’s faces, as the four musketeers paid up and walked out without so much as a glance in their direction made up for some of it, Aramis thought grimly.

He kept a hand on Portho’s arm just in case, and only released his grip once they had made it outside without incident.

  
It didn't last, because it never did.

Before the four of them made it down the street, they could hear the group of guards following close…

Beside him, Athos tensed just a fraction, and Porthos' hand settled on the hilt of his sword.

"I wouldn't have thought you’re a coward on top of it too!", Guillaume yelled, before throwing something at their feet. A closer look revealed it to be coins.

"How about you leave your whore to us? Give you the chance to fuck someone who hasn't slept with half of Paris," Guillaume said, smirking at Athos. "Then again, I doubt anyone else would go for someone sick like you, Athos."

  
Aramis' hand went out to hold Porthos back without conscious thought, but it was the open fury in Athos’ eyes that had him surprised.

Athos stared the Red guard down without so much as the twitch of a muscle, which indicated the other had unwittingly overstepped a line. 

  
Athos would not have Guilllaume call any of his friends a whore - most of all not Aramis. They would have to settle this, if not only to silence the guards now and prevent further spreading of unpleasant rumours, which could get them hanged.  

Besides that, Athos felt the urge to slit the man's throat to make him choke on his bitter mockery. 

  
Not saying a single word Athos waved the other nearer, gesturing to follow him and the Red Guard's laughters echoed behind them as the two groups sought the cover of a small back yard.

It looked like an appropriate place to settle their terms.

Guillaume seemed to get the idea, because as soon as the noises of the lively streets fell behind them, he drew his sword.

  
"Right.. if you like to take it like a girl, let's see if you also fight like one, Athos."  
  
He leered, harvesting cheers from his men and began to circle Athos in fighting stance.  
"Let me help", Porthos  growled, baring his white teeth. "I'm gonna kick this bastard's ass so hard, he won't know what hit him.."

d'Artagnan beside him looked as equally grim, while Aramis just had grown so pale, it stirred the anger in Athos to full extend.

 

He rarely felt hatred as pure as for his opponent in this moment, but he told his friends to have a close look at the remaining Red Guards and deal with them, in case they had the idea to interfere in the duell.  
  
Athos and Guillaume sized each other up - and it was the Red Guard who attacked first. 

Athos did not hold back, he twirled, parried the furious stroke with his own blade and kicked Guillaume in the shin full force.. making the man groan in pain.

And as he buckled, Athos tackled his opponent against the pillar of a building.

  
Guillaume soon realized, that fighting fair against Athos would make him lose with utter surety.. and with the state the musketeer was in, he wasn't sure he would spare his life when he'd have a blade to his throat in the end.  
  
In his panic, the man grabbed an empty bucket and tossed it into Athos' direction, making him growl in anger: "Come on, at least fight with honour if you can't do so with your foul mouth!"  
  
"Cocksucker!", Guillaume hissed and stepped into Athos’ path again, raising his sword a bit unsteady this time.

A few exchanges of blows later, the Red Guard let his cover slide and Athos promptly took the opening to slice uniform and skin, making Guillaume cry out in pain.   
  
The man hold his neck, the cut had bitten into the delicate curve between throat and shoulder and the expression in Athos' eyes spoke a warning.

This was when Guillaume acted on affect, panic in his eyes.. Knowing he was going to lose any other way, so while he still held his blade stretched out in Athos' face, the other drew the pistol from its holster.  
  
But before he could aim at the musketeer and end the duel with unrightful murder on Athos, who was totally unprepared for the vicious attack, a bullet hit the Red Guard right in the left chest and let him drop dead to the ground without a single sound or as much as a last twitch.   


Athos spun, eyes darting to his friends. Of course it was the fastest and most accurate shot in their midst who had saved his life...

Porthos, d'Artagnan and Aramis had watched the fight between Athos and the leader of the Red Guards with baited breath. And when Guillaume had pulled his pistol, Aramis had pulled his weapon and shot the man where he stood, no hesitation or second thoughts. 

The body hit the ground with a satisfying thud. And when Athos turned to look at them, alive and breathing and sage, Aramis couldn't feel any remorse for taking a man's life at all.

The rest of the guards seemed as surprised as Athos at the sudden change of events, and for a moment or two it looked as if they would try to avenge their fallen leader.

When they found themselves face to face with four extremely pissed off musketeers, brandishing various weapons, however, they beat a hasty retreat. 

Aramis only let himself relax his stance once the Red Guards were out of sight, eyes seeking out Athos to check for injuries. He felt relieved when there were none. There was gratitude in Athos eyes, and Aramis mouthed _always_ in return.

Porthos, however, was still bristling with barely contained anger. Clearly angry at the missed chance to deal some damage..

"Porthos," Aramis warned, toeing Guillaume's lifeless body with his boot, "Treville's not going to be happy about this to begin with, no need to get you dragged into it too." 

"Only if he finds out about it", d'Artagnan put in, "and the way I see it, there's no reason why he should."

"Well, the Guillaume was the one who started it," Porthos argued, instantly defensive when it came to the three of them.

"Not to mention that he was the one who cheated by going for his gun. If you hadn't shot him first, he would have shot me," Athos added, always the voice of reason, and Aramis couldn't help but smile at him.

"If you ask me, he deserved it," Porthos growled, "You should have let me wring all of their necks! Fucking pigs!"

Athos regarded Porthos with a thoughtful glance and sheathed his sword. He felt no triumph over his victory, even though this man probably had deserved to die. But with the dead body lying to their feet, Athos' wrath subsided quickly.

  
"We better leave, before we attract too much attention", he said and followed his friends back on the main street in a restrained hurry, hand pressed to the hilt on his belt.   
  
They could only hope that captain Guillaume’s defeat was a warning enough to the Red Guards who had witnessed the duel... and therefor would not reveal names nor details.  For now, there was nothing to be done about it and with every hour that past, and nobody came to arrest him, Athos felt more relaxed, the adrenalin slowly pouring out his system.   


However, Athos stayed painfully aware of glances piercing their backs and the hushed voices in murmur, which actually were mostly a product of Athos' imagination. Though the man kept turning his head and looking behind them for potential pursuers.   


That was, until Porthos wound an arm around his neck with a deep sigh. The touch still felt somewhat reluctant and more stiffened than usual, but Porthos apparently did not want the whole street to eavesdrop, as he leaned in.

"Relax, I don't think they'll be coming for us now. If you ask me, I think it was the rose... " and there he cleared his throat "Somebody - other than me - must have seen you sneaking 'round with that the other night and drawn a conclusion."

"You mean the right one", Athos gave back dryly.

So someone had seen him entering Aramis' lodging with the goods and put two and two together. Fair enough, for it meant none of them or their comrades had dropped the penny.

What was slightly unnerving though, was d’Artagnan’s surreptitious look as they carried on with their patrol.

It took Athos about an hour for his patience to grow thin and eventually, as they just turned into a less populated street, Athos stepped into the other’s way. “Okay, so you got questions.”

D’Artagnan blinked. He wasn’t prepared for the direct approach and his cheeks turned a darker shade in  embarrassment. But Athos would not let him turn his attention from him. The blue eyes resting calmly on the younger, waiting for an answer… and finally the Gascon returned the look.

His heel pawed the ground, showing discomfort and Athos held back a sigh.

“So is it true then?” d’Artagnan’s gaze lowered. “You and Aramis?”

But before Athos could even open his mouth, Aramis shifting in the corner of d’Artagnan’s field of vision, the young Gascon started jabbering helplessly. “I didn’t mean it like Guillaume said, I- just-“

“Yes”, Athos said almost dignified. He looked tired already and his eyes found Aramis to soften in their expression. “Thought, you knew that already.”

“Well I-“, d’Artagnan blurted, but a firm clap on his shoulder silenced the young man, as the others had turned to continue walking again.

Aramis could not help but hold his breathe when Athos met d'Artagnan's questioning look openly. They had only known the boy for a short while, and Aramis found the thought of losing him pained him. Thankfully, d'Artagnan turned out to be a lot less impressionable than Aramis had feared, though not necessarily less confused by the revelation. 

“Now you do”, Aramis gave d'Artagnan a companionable pat to the shoulder, glad when he found the other wasn't opposed to the friendly gesture they had shared so often in the past. They passed the Gascon and left him standing in the alley with a puzzled expression on his face.

He really was blessed with the best of companions, Aramis thought, and fell into step beside Athos. The secret smile they exchanged was both rueful and relieved at the same time, but both of them felt some of the tension leave them.

Aramis would have liked nothing better than to pull Athos into his arms and to soothe away the worry and weariness with kisses. But it was neither the time nor the place for that now, and so they had to be content with the occasional brush of shoulders as the walked side by side.

The only who had not said a word in the matter, was Porthos.

The taller man still was remarkably quiet and stuck to himself as he walked beside d’Artagnan a moment later – a meaningful glance towards his friend. 

Both of them just watched Athos and Aramis walk side by side, not touching each other in their strode, nor did they look any different from before.

And d’Artagnan bit his lip when Porthos beside him let out a heavy and deep sigh.

 


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of their rounds were quiet. Too quiet perhaps, given how quickly the boring task normally turned into ridiculous posturing and terrible jokes. After the events of the day, however, none of them was much in the mood for jokes.

Athos and Aramis could have lost everything, their lives, their comission, their honor and the respect their station commanded. What was worse yet; they could have lost two brothers today. Aramis shuddered at the thought. d'Artagnan was clearly still confused by what he had learned, but Aramis was sure that the lad would vome around once he realized that his friends had not really changed as persons only because they shared a bed.

Porthos ... Porthos was a different story. The three of them had known each other much longer, but now that Aramis had thought about it, he was certain that there were feelings involved.

It was ridiculous how Aramis had never realized it before, for the love was visible in the trust and devotion Porthos had always placed in Athos, in every of his gestures and moods.

Despite the realization, Aramis knew with gut-churning clarity that he could never, would never, give Athos up. But it pained him to see good, steadfast Porthos unhappy almost as much.

Now more than ever, he would have to talk to Porthos, even if he still didn't know what to say to the man he called his best friend.

He was still going over the thought in his head when they finished their patrol and reported to Treville - conveniently leaving out any mention of their run-in with the Red Guards. 

Like any ordinary day would have it, the four of them ended up in the tavern after a long day’s work.

Though Athos was subtly aware of the strangely different vibes lingering between them and if it was not enough, a quiet Porthos, who was staring into his ale pretty much made enough of an indicator.

At least d’Artagnan seemed cool and like he had come to terms with the news by now.

He sat across Athos and clinked glasses with his friend, grinning as the lightweight that he was, when it came to holding one’s liquor.

“You know, Athos”, he slurred “I’m in love with another monsieur’s wife. Think that’s far worse than the situation you two are in.” He nodded excessive agreement to his own words and knocked the jar back down the table top.

Athos said nothing, except raising his eyebrow and exchange a look with Aramis.

Porthos did not even react to his gaze, nor did he really to their company at all. Athos felt worry and it was becoming slighty unnerving. The man was still absolutely clueless about Porthos’ concerns.

To Athos, it still was kind of a wonder that Aramis had responded to his admiration and want in the way he still upheld. Athos had never dared hoping for any of this. For a man who barely accomplished to love himself, it was difficult to accept the love of others, not even to mention from more than one person alike…

He had started to trust Aramis, the longer their bonding endured, but all he felt concerning Porthos was vague uncertainty und uneasiness.

Though it was not the main reason Athos excused himself from the others quite early this night. Despite his usual habit to drink himself down the table and require somebody to drag him out of the tavern as the last man.

It was just the nerve-wracking day they’ve had, the lack of sleep and Athos just was the type of character who needed some time to himself now and then; to think and probably drink and most of all dwell on a calm minute's peace to regain strength.

It had nothing to do with Aramis or his love for any of them and he saw they understood, as he got up and carefully put his hat in place.

“Good night gentlemen, I haven’t been home in quite two days and to be honest feel like I really need a good night’s rest and a wash.” A smirk ghosted over his lips as he patted d’Artagnan on the back, meaning for him to take it easy with the drinking.

The same gesture reached Porthos and the first time at this evening the other actually lifted his head and looked at him, a crooked smile turning his mouth into a grimace man than a real expression of cheerfulness. Porthos even sank sink into the touch at little.

“You watch it there, Athos. Don’t let anyone fishy follow you home, eh…”

And when the turn came to Aramis, Athos was either drunk enough at this point or just tired with pretending and above giving a damn, as he leaned in and brushed a quick kiss across Aramis' lips. The hat shielded them mostly from curious looks and for the distant watcher it might have just looked like Athos was saying something into Aramis’ ear.

Porthos though, in fact froze. He was not responding to the teasingly cheerful nudge of d’Artagnans boot under the table, but giving them a stare.

Shorty after Athos’ departure, d’Artagnan emptied his mug and rose to his feet as well, to excuse himself for tonight. Mumbling about Constance and household duties which normally would have earned him some mocking remarks and laughter from his friends.

But now the only thing he got from Porthos was a growled hum.

When the Gascon left them alone eventually, Porthos lifted his legs to the bench across and mug in hand, stared at Aramis quite blankly as in awaiting for the other to say something...

 

And whoever had said, that good things come to those who waitclearly had no idea what they were talking about, Aramis decided. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat under Porthos unrelenting gaze.

It was clear that Porthos wanted him to say something, but just what that was.. well.

"Porthos ...," Aramis sighed, fingers fiddling with his glass in nervous habit. Porthos merely raised an eyebrow, urging him to go on. So Aramis frowned unhappily when the words wouldn't come.

"Look, I know you're unhappy with this - with Athos and I. Don't try to deny it."

"Damn right I'm unhappy", Porthos cut in with a growl, "We were cutting it damn close with the Red Guards not more than a few hours ago."

He was becoming more agitated with every word, "Why the hell would you think a public display of affection is a good idea after a day like this, huh?"

Aramis blinked his eyes, momentarily stunned by the vehemence behind his friend's words. It made him feel warmth spreading through him to know, Porthos cared about them so much, despite the hurt their open display of affection must have caused the tall man.

Aramis wondered how Porthos could be right, but at the same time miss the point completely.

"I know, believe me, I do", he told the other, only to be interrupted once more.

"Do you?" Porthos asked, voice rising in anger and Aramis felt himself bristle defensively.

"Are you angry because you're worried or because of your own feelings for Athos?" he hissed, his own temper making the words harsher than he had intended to.

Across the table, Porthos' face dropped, and the silence which settled between them was almost crushing.

"Porthos", Aramis said, "I'm sorry, that was cruel of me. I shouldn't have gotten angry like that.  Porthos, look at me."

It seemed like forever until Porthos dragged his eyes up from the mug in his hand to meet Aramis' gaze. And when he did, Aramis heart went out to him.

He shouldn't have done this here, Aramis thought, he should have invited the other to his quarters and coaxed the truth out of his with gentle words. It was too late for that now, but Aramis' next words were infinitely more careful. 

"It's true, isn't it?"

"What does it matter?" Porthos answered, defeat in his voice, "He has you and he's happy. He's finally happy. I couldn't come between that."

Aramis contemplated his friend's words, then shook his head. "You should tell him, let him decide that."

Porthos merely shook his head, and Aramis almost didn't catch the mumbled "He doesn't see me like that."

"How could he not?" Aramis asked incredulously, "Even though I know you're unhappy I could never give him up. Yet here you are, thinking only about Athos' happiness. You're a far greater man than I could ever be." It took far more courage to admit it out loud than Aramis had thought, and he felt breathless when he addressed Porthos once more. "So how could he not?"

For the longest time, Porthos stared at him in wide eyed confusion, opening his mouth only for no words to come out.

When Aramis reached across the table to clasp Porthos hand in his own, however, Porthos wound their fingers together and held on. There was something strangely intimate about the gesture.

"I wouldn't mind, you know ... if Athos wanted to make this about the three of us", Aramis said. More quietly, he added "And if you would have me." He was surprised to find, he meant it and just how right it felt to say the words.

There had always been the three of them, so really, how could this be anything else.

"Just, talk to him. Please?" Aramis asked quietly, giddy with relief when Porthos answered with a nod.

 

* * *

 

It took Porthos almost twenty-four hours to gather his courage.

It was sunday, so off-duty and Porthos used the day to wander around Paris, doing a considerably big amount of thinking.

But when his mind would come to no other, satisfying solution, he admitted defeat.

He had to talk to Athos, there was no way round it.

Even though, he was so incredible bad at talking, bad with words and anything that required tact WHILE using words.

But then again, this was Athos... what harm could it do. Any words were better than none, Porthos mused. Especially, when it came to the stoic character that was his best friend...  
  
In lack of anything better to do, to keep his mind busy, he beat up some Musketeer recruits in training fights at the yard and cleaned his pistols and blades in the armory with utter thoroughness.

So when he finally left the garrison, at late afternoon, it was not only his inner state which was set in place and revised and actually radiating confidence.

Until that moment, he almost stumbled over Athos in the streets.

The taller man paused right there in his steps. He felt heat rising to his face.

Porthos had not expected to see Athos – or Aramis – at all today. What with the rough day past, Porthos had any discretion to leave his friends in peace for a while.. probably sharing a bed or at least a room..

Little did he know that Aramis was deliberately stayind absent to both of them, steering fate as good as he was able to.   
And Athos had in fact used the time granted to himself to consider the recent events once more.   
  
It had not turned out in Porthos’ favour.

Athos was still in doubt what in heaven's name Porthos' problem was. Whenever there was doubt or the suspicion of his friends hiding something from him, he became annoyed to the point of anger. And Porthos been avoiding them the whole day, after what had happened, gave Athos all the wrong ideas..

His brain jumped to conclusions, which made no sense if he'd look closely.   
  
The two men stared at each other for a second, then both of them spoke at once. "We need to talk."  
Athos' lips twisted into a smirk, despite himself and Porthos choked on a chuckle, his shoulders realxing visibly. This was stupid, they had known each other for over five years now... sure they could have a darn, simple talking without wetting their pants.

  
Athos gave a firm nod for Porthos to follow him and they entered his lodging a few minutes of walk later.   
  
The place looked remarkably tidy and decluttered of any empty wine bottes and pieces of dirty clothes. Surely, Aramis did him well, Porthos thought rather torn.

One part was dwelling on the feeling which tried to be happy for Athos, for him apparently getting his shit together, and it was not difficult to uphold.. But another part was just falling  _apart_  on the realization.

  
Then Porthos remembered, what he'd come here for in the first place and he cleared his throat, looking at Athos, who had come to a halt in the middle of the room.

Athos was looking at the friend expectantly, but the crossed arms in front of his chest indicated defense, insecurity. 

  
After all, for all Athos knew, Porthos could tell him he would like to back out of their _weird, queer_ lives...

But Athos didn't grant himself to feel betrayed before the real act.  
  
"You first", he prompted.

Porthos gave in with a stretched sigh. "I need to tell you something.. a big something that I actually should have told you, like,  _months_  ago... but couldn't."

Athos raised a vigilant brow but said nothing. 

"Couldn't bring myself to it", Porthos continued, hat in hands now as he started to the dusty floor. "And I, err, actually never would, with the.. recent events and all, but Aramis kicked my arse to it, to tell you, so.."  
Athos stiffled an impatient sound, shifting a bit uncomfortable where he stood. He regarded Porthos with just growing confusion in his look.   
Clearly, he did not understand.  
  
And Porthos realized, he couldn't do it. He could not say the words, not straight to Athos' fact with the other man looking at him like that and Porthos cursed himself inwardly for being such a wimp.

  
"If you wanna know why I've been acting like a mutt lately 'n all, it's because seeing you that close with Aramis hurt me."  
  
Athos was dumbstruck. He downright stared at Porthos with his mouth falling slack open and his arms loosening their folding. Whatever he had expected. This was far from it.

  
His brain did not comprehend fast enough - Porthos was quicker, as he stepped into his personal space, the heavy exhale of breath ghosting over Athos' face. 

  
Athos felt Porthos' strong arms close around his shoulders, hugging gently as the stubble of his beard pressed against his forehead.

Athos also felt his legs sway, his mind beginning to fog, as his brain was rejecting to comprehend.

"There...", Porthos mumbled lowly against Athos' hair and he could actually  _feel_  the words rumble through Porthos' chest pressed close to his.

"What I'm trying to tell ya.."  
  
Their lips met in a brief and clumsy kiss. It's mostly Porthos shuffling against him, nervous and flustered and more daring than he actually feels like. And Athos for the moment was just unable to react at all.   
His first impuls is disbelief. Then guilt. They should not - what about Aramis? And just then he recalls Porthos' words: Aramis made him do this. He had shooed him over and into his arms. Maybe not literally.. but then again, it looked just like it.

And Athos, finally, began to understand..   
  
"You...?" he pushed the other away from him gently. He looked into the warm and hopeful dark eyes with one expression in them, Athos had never seen before. Affection?

Athos groaned inwardly.

How did he come to this? How could he  _even_  deserve any of that?

He was a bitter man, loyal to his friends and his companion Musketeers and devoted to his duty, but besides that surely not one who was easy to be loved. Because he was, after all damaged and bare to emotions and he had quirks - to call it mildly – and just one of them to let nobody close. 

But that didn't seem to affect Porthos. The other had just  _pierced_ through his defence and hit on bulls eye. 

  
Athos' heart.  
And Porthos was too honest a man to play games and not mean it like he said. At least in this, Athos trusted him totally. It though did not take the blow out of the gesture, rather the opposite...

  
"Yea, I'm one of the weird folks too, it looks like", Porthos hummed, cheeks still shaded with colour. "At least with you.."  
  
Athos peeled himself off the other. His hand nevertheless remained wound around Porthos' arm.   
"Porthos.."  
  
The taller man barked a choked laugh. It sounded almost helpless. "I know, this is probably the most ridiculous thing someone has ever suggest you with but-" he fell serious again "I mean it. Any of it... and when Aramis made that proposal I just- I hoped.."

  
"Porthos...", Athos said again, in a choked mumble. Like everything he could muster right now - his head spinning in an attempt to catch up.  
Porthos though, looked so lost.  The remaining arm around Athos' shoulder flexed in a cramp, before he finally stepped back.  
"I'm not awaiting an answer straight, like now.. just.. you think about it, it's all I ask. Like Aramis proposed to me...  I'll ask the same of you. That I'd give myself to you - the both of you... if you would have me."

Still there was no response coming from Athos.

The friend just regarded him with a blank stare, and for a moment Porthos was worried he actually  _broke_  him.

If that was even possible with Athos, who had endured so much in his life – but seemed to crumble now under an awkward, almost humble declaration of love. 

 “Athos..?” Porthos was up and about to grab the other round his shoulders and shake him out of the momentary stupor. Then he saw the red colour sneaking to the other man’s cheeks.

In all the previous five years or so, Porthos never had seen Athos blush; not once.  It almost made him blush too, in embarrassment (and maybe sympathy) and he looked away, clearing his throat.

“Maybe I should-  I better go..”

Porthos made for the door in a stumbling hurry, but before he could press the handle down, a soft touch on his arm made him freeze in his movements. Slowly, he turned back to face the other.

“Porthos, wait..”, Athos’ voice was hushed and almost sounded careful with every syllable.  The taller man looked at him rather puzzled; then for a moment was lost in the blue eyes who seemed to be inhered with an unusual, lively spark as they watched him.

 Athos looked at him, his features at ease and.. _unguarded,_ like he had rarely seen him. It was a gentle, nearly affectionate look which made Porthos gulp.

In fact, Athos would like to answer Porthos’ faith with just the appropriate means… and with time, he is almost sure in his heart, he will. Because he made up his mind, he can accept Porthos' devotion and give him..  _something_  in return, he finds. If that is good enough for Porthos, but Athos has no doubt, it will be.

His look is saying  _I’ll gratefully take you by that offer. If that is your wish and yours and Aramis’ truly. Because I need you – and want both of you I my life._

 But what he finally voices is “Thank you.”  And Porthos understood the meaningfulness which weights on the words. He just took the crooked fingers in the leather glove into his own and giving them a gentle and grateful squeeze, he smiled at Athos warmly.

Like this, neither of them let go  for a while, even when the thick brows furrowed into a frown.

 “What about Aramis?” Porthos asked.

Athos ran a hand over his chin and showed the absent ghost of a smile.

"..I think I know where he is.“

 

* * *

 

Athos’ steps echoed from the stony walls as he walked down the aisle, his eyes fixed on the figure cowered down in front of the simple altar.

They were the only people in the small chapel and Athos thought, more than slightly filled with relief, that he rather liked it that way.

His steps came to a halt on arm’s reach to the other, who was intoning a low mumbled prayer, barely audible. Athos’ lips tugged into a light smirk as he crossed his hands, holding the hat in front of his lap.

When the first prayer was spoken, a gentle hand placed itself around Aramis’ shoulder and Athos’ voice was nothing but a low and soft mumble. “What are you doing..?”

“Praying for our immortal souls.” Aramis turned his head and looked at the other, a warm smile and a light twinkle in his eye, that let Athos’ smirk melt into a honest and rare smile.

“Isn’t that already too late now?”

“One should ever have faith”, Aramis gave back and with a smirk, resumed to his prayers.

“You gave me mine back..”, Athos mumbled into the silence. “Or rather the two of you did.”

To this, Aramis said nothing but his head tilted slightly into the other man’s direction, as he then continued his supplications to God. A God, that in the end seemed to have shown mercy and goodwill to all of them.

And Athos let him do the prayers for them both.. or rather all three of them. He waited patiently till his friend ended the prayer and calmly crossed himself, before he rose to his feet to meet his eyes.

“This should do for another year.”

And Athos replied with a smile that reached the eyes before he reached for the other…

 

And even if Athos was no doubt ruining any and all divine goodwill Aramis' prayers might have bought them, by blasphemously pulling Aramis into a kiss right in the middle of the deserted church then – it earned Aramis’ wicked amusement pretty much.

 

“It is Porthos’ birthday soon”, Athos said as they walked out of the chapel together, meaning the day, Porthos had chosen randomly to be his own and to give them a date to celebrate and one to himself to count the years passing.

“Yes”, Aramis replied.  “And I think I’ve got quite an excellent idea for his birthday present.”

 

* * *

 

Despite Athos' silence during the walk, Aramis had a pretty good idea of where they were headed, and soon enough they had found Porthos occupying their usual table at one of the taverns they frequented.

The normally so jovial man was fingering his cup worriedly, but broke into a relieved smile as soon as he spotted them across the room.

Aramis hung back slightly as Athos crossed the room, a content warmth settling in his stomach as he watched the two men that mattered most to him exchange low words and secret touches that lingered just shy of too long.

A brush of fingers, a hand on a shoulder, before they realized, Aramis had not yet joined them. And they turned to shoot him a questioning look as one.  

Aramis could see the unflinching love in Athos' eyes, and marveled at the sudden lightness of his features.

Porthos', in turn, held only gratitude and fondness when he looked at Aramis. It wasn't the same love Porthos held for Athos, but Aramis knew that that, too, would come with time.

And now, with the three of them once more together and inseperable in this as in all other things, Aramis hoped they would have all the time in the world.

He let out a quiet, happy laugh and crossed the room in a few easy strides, matching the smiles on his companions faces when two pairs of hands reached out and pulled him close.

FIN.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes well... this is it (for now). I'm being waayyy to sentimental right now, don't touch me.  
> The bad news: this part of the story is done; the good news: we're planning on writing a sequel with an OT3 - established relationship (hopefully..)  
> With a lot of bantering, quests and (again) awakward first-timers.. you call it. Because Porthos has to catch up, don't he?
> 
> And this is were maybe YOU come in =) Right now we are looking for a third player to join us in the Roleplay, we're 'recruting' so to speak. So if you have read the story and loved it and the characterizations so far and feel like writing a charming and sweet Porthos for us in a e-mail based rolepay, please message me here or on [tumblr](http://flauschvieh.tumblr.com/ask).  
> We don't bite (only in the obligatory smut scenes probably xD)  
> What you will get is two devoted musketeer brothers/lovers and a daily dose of RP'ing in your inbox.  
> Anways, cheers and thank you for reading <3  
> Flauschvieh & Hine


End file.
